


All Fall Down

by Nightfall24



Series: All Fall Down [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood Drinking, Dark, Dry Humping, Feral Behavior, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Vampire Hunters, Vampire John, Vampire Sherlock, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:09:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2286162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightfall24/pseuds/Nightfall24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock gets a new contract to hunt down a vampire who doesn't kill his victims. Guess who it is!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Goodbye, Apathy

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone,
> 
> This is my first stab at writing vamp!lock, so I hope you enjoy it. This story will have alternating POVs, with one chapter being Sherlock's and the next being John's. I have no idea where this story is going, so hang in there with me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 1 – Goodbye, Apathy

Not even Sherlock’s breathing could be heard in the dark empty house. He sat like a statue in the darkest corner of the living room, waiting. His latest prey, one Marcus Bells, was due home any minute and would spring the flawless trap Sherlock had set for him. It was easy really, and boring to say the least, but it was his job and he did it well, very well.

Sherlock shifted his weight and passed his modified crossbow from one hand to the other, stretching his stiff fingers. By the time he had gone through every single scenario of how this was going to play out, twice, a noise emanated from the front of the house. _Welcome home, Mr. Bells._

There was a rattling and then a click, signifying Sherlock was no longer alone in the house. He steeled himself, watching the net he’d rigged above the man’s head. _3,2,1,0._ Predictable as always, the man flipped the switch to turn out the light, but when it didn’t come on he reached in his pocket to find his mobile to use as a flashlight. The five seconds this provided was all Sherlock needed to pull the rope, releasing the net to fall on Bells’ head.

The change was immediate. Bell let out an inhuman growl and looked directly at Sherlock, who was still enveloped by the darkness. Sharp white teeth hissed at him, but Sherlock merely rolled his eyes and stood up to walk towards the trapped beast. The net was made from the finest ghost twine, latching on to the vampire’s skin and keeping him in place even as he used his superior strength to rip it.

“Now, now, calm down,” Sherlock told him, staring directly into the now black eyes of Marcus Bell. “You know it only tightens when you struggle like that.” The words seemed to fall on deaf ears, as the creature growled again and lunged for its captor. It was almost insulting the way Sherlock didn’t even twitch away from the assault. “Are you ready to begin? I have other things to do tonight,” Sherlock told him, kneeling down and pointing the stake positioned on the crossbow right at the vampire’s back.

“Don’t!” Bells said, his voice lower than any human vocal cords could produce. “I didn’t do anything! You have no right!” He continued to chant the same lines every vampire did right before Sherlock shot them through the heart. It was all rather dull that none of his prey could come up with better pleas.

“How many humans have you killed this year? This month, even?” Sherlock asked him.

“I can’t help it! Please!” the vampire began to struggle even more, causing the twine to push into his skin.

“I know,” Sherlock said, because he did know. It was in a vampire’s very nature to kill humans for their blood, just like it was his to track them down and ram a stake through their heart. With that, he pulled the trigger, launching a stake at high speed through the beasts blood hungry heart.

Immediately, his eyes turned black then pure white as his heart disintegrated inside his chest. With that, Sherlock pulled out his mobile and hit five to call the clean up team. “Number 2334 is dead.” Was all he said before throwing his bow in a bag and leaving the undead’s corpse lying dead in the living room.

Two discreet black cars pulled up just as Sherlock began walking down the pavement towards Baker Street. It was nice outside, with crisp clean fall air and no vampire in sight. It had taken a while to get things cleaned up around London, but after Mycroft gathered proper funding and support for the League, Vampire numbers plummeted. Now all they had to do was maintain the steady flow of beasts created on a day to day, or rather, night to night basis.

It was a good night, Sherlock told himself as he opened up the door, only to find it was unlocked. Immediately, he pulled out his crossbow and aimed it inside his flat. With silent feet, he made his way inside to find his brother sitting with his legs crossed and a cup of tea in his hands. “Good evening, dear brother,” Mycroft said, taking a sip of his tea.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock greeted and lowered his bow.

“I heard you freed Bells quite expertly tonight.”

“I always do.” Sherlock said putting his gear down on the table and hanging his coat up. It was late and he was tired, the last thing Sherlock wanted to do was listen to his arch nemesis spew more dull facts about vampires. He did his job and he did it well, end of discussion. Sherlock flopped down in his chair, his long limbs hanging over the edges.

“The Council is very pleased with your performance.”

“Good for them,” Sherlock rolled his eyes and crossed his leg over the other.

“Sherlock,” Mycroft sighed at his brother, “they want you on the Council. You should be honored.”

“Mycroft,” Sherlock ran a hand over his face, “you know very well I would be banned within a week if I joined those pompous ignorant bastards.”

“You really want to stay a contracted Liberator for the rest of your life? Honestly Sherlock, what would Mummy say?”

“Don’t bring her into this,” Sherlock growled.

“I swear, you are becoming more like those animals you hunt, every day,” Mycroft said, staring at the tip of his umbrella as it twirled against the floor.

Sherlock said nothing in response, but continued to stare at his brother. His patience was wearing thin, and that bow caster in his bag was looking more and more appealing.

Mycroft sighed, but nodded his head. “Fine Sherlock, have it your way.” The eldest Holmes reached into his brown leather briefcase and pulled out a manila folder with a stack of papers inside. “Here is a new target for you.”

Sherlock hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not to tell his brother to hit the road and leave him alone. In the end though, his love for the hunt got to him and he reached for the papers.

On the first page was a picture of a man in his mid-thirties, with blonde hair, and a kind looking face. _This guy can’t be a vampire._ Most pictures he saw were of vampires actually in the act, but this one, this one was different.

“Dr. John Hamish Watson, age 234,” Mycroft said, standing up and checking the watch he pulled from the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

“He’s not a fresh one,” Sherlock said, more to himself than anything.

 “No, he just moved here a month ago from Cardiff. He’s never been caught feasting, but our sources tell us he is a vampire and does feed from humans.”

Sherlock continued to stare at the picture of the normal looking man. _Never been caught feasting on a human, eh? Perhaps you, John Watson, will provide a very, very interesting hunt._ “I’ll take it.”                


	2. Good Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's POV after chapter one. John has dinner. Sherlock's on the hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone,
> 
> Thanks so much for all the kudos and comments, I really appreciate them. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 2 – Good Life

John sat quietly in his booth, sipping on a dark ale and watching the patrons interactions. He loved watching people, especially in pubs where they were at their most honest. Over the past hundred years or so, John had learned how to pick the best target for dinner. It wasn’t hard when there were at least ten drunk people who wouldn’t be able to remember why their neck hurt in the morning.

John spotted a young man, maybe twenty, leaning onto the bar with all his weight. It was obvious the stranger’s legs were too wobbly to hold him up, which would be perfect for John’s plan. With one last gulp of his beer, John stood up and cracked his neck. He walked up to the bar, nodding to the man behind it.

“Hey Matt,” John waved to the barman.

“John,” Matt nodded with a smile.

“Hey, you okay there buddy,” John leaned down to look at the dazed man leaning against the bar.

The man tried to talk, but only a string of mumbles that no one could understand came out. John looked at Matt, who just shook his head. “I’ll get this one a cab, then,” John laughed.

“Thanks, John. The pints on the house.”

“Thanks,” John said, putting his arm around the stranger. “Come on, kid.” With an arm tucked under the man’s armpit, John hauled him towards the exit. He mumbled more nonsense, but held onto John for dear life.

When John finally lugged the drunken man outside, he pulled him over to the side of the pub. “Here, lean up against the wall,” John told him, but didn’t give the man much of a choice. He placed a hand on the guy’s stomach and the other on the side of his head. John placed to fingers over his eyes and shut them, before tilting the stranger’s head to the side.

His canines extended and began leaking a deadening agent that would numb the area on the man’s neck as soon as the skin was broken. Taking a deep whiff of the delicious smelling human in front of him, John listened to the blood pumping through his veins. He opened his mouth wide, and with lightning speed, John struck. Digging his teeth deep into the human’s neck, John punctured the carotid artery and began to drink deeply.   

Warmth flooded his body, making his heart begin to beat lightly in his chest. John gripped the man harder, his instincts telling him to ensure his prey’s immobility. _God that’s good._ He drank for twenty seconds, then reluctantly broke away, immediately licking the wound to heal the artery and skin. John sighed and held his head back to get every last drop into his mouth.

Licking his lips, he checked the man’s pulse, making sure he hadn’t taken too much. “Thank you,” John said, patting the man’s cheek, which almost knocked him over. “Let’s see where you live, shall we.” He supported the man with one arm easily and reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. Save for a couple of quid and ID, there wasn’t much in the wallet. It was enough though, and John quickly found an address.

Using his superior strength, John lifted the man over his shoulder and went out to hail a cab. When one finally arrived, John put the passed out stranger in the car with a pat to the head. “Take him here,” John showed the cabbie the address, “and make sure he gets in okay,” he said, handing over double the amount it would have cost for a ride.

“Whatever you say, mate.”

John, sated and content, headed home. As he walked though, there was a strange sense of being watched. Every time he turned around, or looked in the bushes across the street, there was no one there. He sniffed around, smelling only a few humans, which were the people who lived in his building.

“Ahhh!” John heard someone groan from down the alley way. That’s when he smelled it, blood. John slowly made his way down between the brick walls to find a young man, who appeared to be homeless hunched over on the ground.

“Hey there, you all right?” John asked, taking a few steps closer. The best thing about being a vampire was that he was never scared of anyone. This guy could be crazy, but it didn’t matter, he couldn’t hurt a vampire.

“Go away!” the man shouted and clutched his arm to him desperately.

“I’m a Doctor, lad, let me see your hand,” John insisted, reaching for the bleeding hand. The smell of the blood was exquisite, but John was able to damp down his primal need enough to help the injured human. He’d done it all of his life, well at least the last hundred years he had. “How did you do this?” John asked when he pulled the hand into his palm.

There was a giant gash on the top, oozing blood, and John knew he would need some of his supplies to stitch up the wound.

“A broken bottle,” the man said. He finally looked up at John, revealing silver eyes and a pale face. There was a mop of curly dark hair on his head and a stare that made John almost shiver.

“That’ll do it,” John said, patting the man’s arm. “Alright, you stay here and I’m going to go grab some supplies. Don’t run off, now, someone needs to take care of that before it gets infected.” John gave the young man a wink and ran upstairs to his flat.

It took him all but three minutes to grab his suture kit and a few other supplies. He ran back downstairs and thankfully found the man still waiting for him. “Good man,” John said, as he kneeled down in front of him. “What’s your name?” he asked, trying to get the kid’s attention away from the wound on his hand.

“Sherlock,” he said, his hand shaking.

“Well, Sherlock, we’re going to get you cleaned up, yeah.” John dabbed some gauze in disinfectant and started to apply it to the cut. “This is going to sting a bit.”

In an instant, Sherlock pulled his hand back with a hiss, kicking the Doctor as he did so. “I’m fine,” he said, going to stand up.

John halted him with a heavy hand on his shoulder. “No, you’re not fine, Sherlock. It’s going to hurt a bit but it’s for the best.” John reached for the hand again, but it was pulled away and dug deeply into the man’s armpit.

John sighed, knowing what he had to do, but still debating whether it would be better for the human in the long run. He was able to compel the kid to forget tonight’s events so he could lick the wound and it would heal instantly. It took some practice, but if he looked in someone’s eyes long enough, he could do it. “Alright, Sherlock, I want you to look into my eyes, okay. Nowhere else.”

The man complied, but kept his hand tucked tightly against him. Finally, after about a minute of staring into those silver orbs, John found what he was looking for and pressed against it. Sherlock’s eyes began to grow heavy and then closed, letting his hand drop into his lap. John picked it up quickly, and licked a long strip, making sure his saliva got into the wound.

The blood exploded in his mouth. It tasted of dark roast coffee beans and toasted marshmallows. It took more strength than John would have thought to pull away. He had to though, after all, he was already full and this poor kid was already in bad shape. _Why add more?_ Reluctantly, John let go, sucking the blood greedily off his tongue and letting it slide down his throat like an exquisite wine. “Damn, kid.” 

After a moment, the gash turned into a scrap, then into a tiny scar that the man would hardly even notice. “There we go,” John said to the unconscious man. “In five minutes, I want you to wake up. You won’t remember who I am or what happened to your hand.” John caressed Sherlock’s face, “good luck, mate.” With that, John left him and went upstairs to his flat.

As he sat in his big comfy chair and drank his tea, John started to close his eyes. It was getting close to dawn and he had had a long fulfilling night. That boy at the pub was quite tasty, and John secretly hoped he would come back again and get smashed. He felt bad for the boy in the alley though. _Some people are just dealt a rough hand, I guess._

Then, there was a knock at the door. John quirked his head and sniffed the air. Whoever it was, was human, and the blood smelled faintly familiar. _I thought I told him to ‘not’ remember who I am._ John went to the door and opened it. “Sherlock, I-”

Before John could get out anymore words, he was propelled backwards by a huge net being shot at him. It was ghost twine, John knew, from the way it clung to his skin, keeping even his superior strength at bay. He struggled, but made sure to keep his teeth in check and his growling to a minimum. The situation was still confusing, and John didn’t want to give away all his cards too quickly.

“Dr. John Hamish Watson,” Sherlock said walking into the flat and closing the door. “I believe you did this, yes?” He held up his hand where the small scar now resided.

“I was trying to help you, you git,” John said, trying to lift his head, but it was forced down by the twine.

“I knew that’s how I would catch you,” Sherlock ginned happily. “From the moment I saw you merely drink from that drunkard and not kill him, I just knew it.” He began pacing back and forth, holding his crossbow tightly in his hand. “You’re different,” he said, stopping and staring at John with those icy eyes.

“But I compelled you, you shouldn’t even remember me,” John shouted this time, his anger rising. All he had tried to do was help, but he ended up exposing himself to a hunter. _Good going, John._

“Oh John, you know that only works on weak minds, and I,” he said, standing up straighter, “am brilliant.”

Discretely, John moved his hand to the side of the rope, careful not to trigger the constricting nature of the net. Sherlock only paced back and forth muttering to himself, while John was able to get his hand out side. He ripped of the net and launched himself at Sherlock.

Grabbing the man’s neck, John held him up, his eyes rolling back and truing to black coals and his teeth extending. “Now who’s brilliant,” John growled, using his other hand to pin Sherlock’s. He didn’t, however, see the needle out of the corner of his eye.

“I am,” Sherlock said, easily pushing John away after pressing the plunger into his arm. The vampire landed with a loud thud as he tried to take the needle out of his bicep.

“You bastard,” John said, his eyes turning back to their normal blue and his teeth retracting.

Sherlock slowly walked over and crouched down by John’s head. He petted a hand through the blonde hair and smiled. “Sleep now vampire, there is much to do in the morning.” 


	3. Something I Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's POV. Sherlock muses about what he will do with John. John doesn't seem to like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone,
> 
> Thanks for all the great support for this fic. Sorry the chapters have been a bit short. I'm still trying to figure out where I'm going to go with this fic. I'm thinking a darker route, but I'm not sure yet. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 3 – Something I need

In all of Sherlock’s 35 years, he had never been so excited. John Watson, a two hundred something old vampire, was sleeping on his bed. It had taken no time at all to get the unconscious vampire into a waiting car, throw in a few of John’s clothes, and carry him up to 221B Baker Street. Now, oh yes, now, John was chained by the diamond steel restraints the council had given him, which were impossible to break, even with vampire strength.

He had stripped the man of all of his clothing save for a pair of black pants. It was so invigorating to be able to touch a vampire who wouldn’t hurt him, or perhaps couldn’t hurt him, _but that’s an experiment for a bit later._

Sherlock checked to make sure the clasp on John’s right arm and leg and the collar attached to another chain were secure before he slowly got onto the bed. He stood tall on his knees and loomed over the sleeping form. With a giant grin on his face, Sherlock began running his hands clinically over John’s entire body.

He started with his neck, looking it over for scars from where he was first bitten. It is said the changing bite burns a permanent scar on the vampire’s body, but Sherlock couldn’t find one until he saw the beast’s shoulder. On his right shoulder there was a large white scar that had healed with slightly bubbled up dead tissue. Sherlock ran his hand over it, pressing slightly and was in awe when the vampire actually winced in his drug induced sleep.

Moving downward, Sherlock ran his hands simultaneously down the sides of John’s ribs to his hips. Everything seemed just like a human, but when the hunter pressed his ear to the vampire’s chest, he heard nothing. _Brilliant._ Instead of a heartbeat, he heard a growl, and in an instant, his throat was grabbed in a vice grip and he was lifted almost completely off the bed, his toes barely touching the sheets.

“Let. Me. Go,” John growled, his eyes staying blue but his teeth descending, adding to the intimidation. The vampire tugged with all his strength on the two chains holding his right appendages. He tightened his hold on Sherlock’s throat and hissed at him, showing all his teeth. “Give me the key or I’ll rip your throat out,” John snapped, looking up at Sherlock, who was starting to turn a tad blue.

Sherlock couldn’t help but laugh, though the sound came out more as a gleeful wheeze. He knew John wouldn’t hurt him, no matter what he did to the vampire. It just wasn’t in his nature, even if he was a soulless beast. And that’s what made this Sherlock want to dissect him even more.  

“What’s so funny?” John’s voice dropped an octave, clearly angry at being laughed at. He gave Sherlock a little shake, but still didn’t squeeze any harder to cut of his air supply completely.

“You,” Sherlock whispered. “If you kill me you’ll be stuck in this room until you starve to death. You can’t break these chains, and I’m the only one with a key.” Sherlock paused, then with a smile on his face he continued. “Plus, I think we both know you won’t kill me. You haven’t killed anyone for a very long time, have you vampire?”

John growled ferociously and swung Sherlock down onto the bed. In a flash he pulled Sherlock closer to him, bringing the chains over his own back, and straddled the hunter’s hips. John quickly inspected each of Sherlock’s pockets before moving to his socks. “Where is it!?”

Oh this was just too good. To be so close to something so powerful; swimming with Sharks couldn’t even compare. “Not on me, of course. Do you take me for an idiot?”

“Only an idiot tries to keep a vampire.”

“No, an idiot can ‘kill’ a vampire. It takes a genius to actually catch one,” Sherlock beamed, prodding at the man’s chest, feeling the iron muscles that lay beneath the pale skin. What he wouldn’t give to peel back the layers and see exactly what made Dr. John Watson tick. _Perhaps I will get a chance._

“Stop it you crazy git,” John said, dismounting Sherlock’s hips and huddling up at the corner of the bed. “What do you want with me?” His teeth had retracted now, as he finally realized there was no escape via intimidation. “Why don’t you just kill me like the others?”

“Because you’re different, John!” Sherlock sat up and slid off the bed, straightening his shirt. “I’ve never seen a vampire let its meal live before and I want to know why and how. I’m going to study you, as I’ve never had a tame vampire to work with,” he said matter-of-factly. He had always wondered about what lay beyond the legends of vampires; what made them hungry for blood, how can they compel minds, why do their victims never scream? There were millions of questions, and John might just be the answer.

“Study me?” John asked, his eyes going wide. “That’s ridiculous, Sherlock, if that’s even your real name.”

“Sherlock Holmes,” he bowed slightly, watching John’s every move. He could see when the light bulb went off in his head.

“Holmes? Holy shit. As in, Mycroft Holmes, founder of the league?” John began struggling anew, yanking at the chains with nothing but brute force.

“My brother, yes,” Sherlock smiled as he watched panic take over the old vampire. _If the name Holmes strikes fear into a 234 year old vampire, Mycroft must be doing something right._ “Calm yourself, John. I’m not going to free your soul-”

John laughed. “Ha! Entertain what delusions you will, Sherlock, but killing is killing. Now either kill me or let me go, but I will not play these games with you.”

“Games?” Sherlock asked, offended by such a statement. “Oh no, John, we won’t be playing games here. You will be on a strict routine, as to insure all my tests are as accurate as possible. You will feed from me-”

“I’m sorry, what?” John asked, tilting his head and furrowing his brow.

Sherlock had to admit, the short little vampire was quite adorable when he was confused. “You heard me, John. You will feed from me and I will test how different doses affect your organs. I will also be testing the effects of the amazing deadening agent you can produce.”

“You’re bloody insane!” John yelled, trying to keep his jaw from hanging wide open. “What if the council finds out? What if- what if-”

“Oh John, relax,” Sherlock hushed him as he went over to double check the chains weren’t digging into John’s flesh. “The council won’t find out. They think I’ve already disposed of your body. I considered telling them you just ran off to another district, but let’s face it, there was no way someone like you could escape me.”

Out of nowhere, John reached out and grabbed the collar of Sherlock’s shirt. “Maybe I should just kill you. Save us both a lot of trouble, eh?”

“Go ahead,” Sherlock said offering his throat. He knew John wouldn’t do it, but that didn’t stop his heart from racing faster than a rabbits. “Can you hear my heart?” he asked, pressing his hand over John’s motionless one. “Drink. Make your heart beat.” Sherlock steeled himself, ready to experience his first vampire bite.

John growled viciously, then threw Sherlock at the wall. “Leave,” he said and rolled over on the bed, pulling the comforter up around him.

“Good morning, John. Sleep well,” Sherlock said, standing up and stretching out his bruised spine. He patted John on the head, earning a slight hiss. He smiled as he shut the door behind him.

Downstairs at his computer, Sherlock created spreadsheet after spreadsheet on all the experiments he would perform on John. As he sat and stared at the screen though, his fingers itched to text someone and tell them of his new pet, but he knew the time wasn’t right. He’d only conducted one test, and just as Sherlock hypothesized, John didn’t drink from him even though there was ample chance. _How long will it take you to crack, my dear Doctor?_

Sherlock closed his laptop and gathered sample vials for blood and other bodily fluids, a rubber hose, tweezers, a few syringes, a scalpel, and some towels just in case things got a little messy. If John didn’t bite him after what Sherlock was about to do to him, he didn’t know what would. It was okay though, he could outlast a vampire, just like he always did. John Watson might be special, but he’s still a vampire; and when the beast takes over from hunger, Sherlock will be there to document every minute of it.

“Let me see your dark side, John,” Sherlock whispered to himself. “I know it’s in there, waiting,” _like a bullet, in a cocked gun._ And Sherlock was standing right in front of the barrel.  

            


	4. If I Lose Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's POV. Sherlock performs a few experiments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos, they really make my day. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 4 – If I lose Myself

When John woke up, the sun was just setting below the horizon. Surprisingly, he had slept pretty well in a crazy vampire hunter’s bed. It was the smell, the invisible mist that rose off the blue sheets and comforter that helped lull John off to sleep. Sherlock smelled just like he had tasted; the sweet caramelization of roasted marshmallows along with soft bitterness of morning coffee all rolled over John’s tongue with every inhale.

John was able to ignore the fact that he was in a dangerous situation and enjoy his evening, until the door flew open and a very excited Sherlock walked in. “Don’t you ever sleep?” John asked, sitting up and scratching the skin under the cuff on his arm.

“Sleeping’s boring. Why sleep when I have a vampire chained to my bed?” Sherlock said quickly. He rolled in a side table with a blanket draped over the surface. There were quite a few bumps under the cover, but John couldn’t discern any items. That worried him.  

“Good point?” John rolled his eyes. “What do you have there?” the vampire asked, sitting up more on the bed. This human was different than the others, smarter, dangerous, and John didn’t like it one bit.

“Just a few things that will help us get to know each other better, John,” Sherlock said nonchalantly. With too much flare for a 30 something year old man, Sherlock ripped off the blanket, revealing a whole slew of sharp items and vials.

John let out a growl, his teeth descending. He got up on his knees, preparing to fight off the crazy human with all his might. _But if I kill him, then I’m dead too. I gotta get that key._ “What is the meaning of this?” John asked, shifting his eyes from Sherlock to the instruments of torture.

“We’ve already had this discussion, John. I need to learn more about your kind, and you’re the perfect test subject.”

 “Oh, and why is that?”

“You’re different, calm, plus you won’t bite me…unless I make you of course.” A devilish smile came to Sherlock’s lips. “Speaking of, are you hungry yet?”

John narrowed his eyes. Of course he was hungry, he was almost always hungry, but that didn’t mean he was going to bite this guy just for some experiment. “I’m fine,” John said, keeping his eyes on the table full of needles and vials.

“Pity,” Sherlock said grabbing a glass tube, flipping off the cork cap. “Now lie back.” Sherlock made his way toward John, who just kneeled there, not knowing what to do. He held his hand out pressing against the hunter’s chest.

“Sherlock, wait-”

“Oh quit being such a baby, I’m only going to collect a sample of the liquid your fangs produce. Quite an interesting feat you vampires have, the perfect predator.” Sherlock continued to move forward against John’s hand, pressing the confused vampire onto his back. Straddling John hips, Sherlock held the vial up to the vampire’s lips. “Open.”

John didn’t know what to do. _Why would this guy want the stuff that comes out of my fangs?_ With his lips tightly pressed together, John shook his head rapidly.

“No?” Sherlock said smoothly, a sly grin coming to his face. Unexpectedly, the man put a hand on John’s chest and leaned down to let his lips hover over the cold ones below him. Sherlock licked gently at John, trying to tease him into opening.

John lay there wide eyed, his lips sealed, but the smell of Sherlock so close to him made him on the verge of losing control. The pale neck above him pulsed with delicious blood, and it took all John had to tune out the soft thumping of Sherlock’s beating heart.  Then, pain shot through his jaw, forcing his mouth open.

While John was distracted by Sherlock’s scent, Sherlock had pressed his thumb just behind his ear and jaw bone. “Ah, so pressure points do work on you, interesting,” Sherlock said, removing his finger.

John’s jaw stayed slack from the slight pain still coursing through his nerves. Taking advantage, Sherlock placed his finger on John’s lower fangs, testing the sharpness. “Alright, go ahead,” was all Sherlock said, holding a vial up to John’s top teeth.

John let out a deep growl, but he knew he was stuck. If he moved just a millimeter, he would scratch Sherlock, which would result in that sweet blood dripping in his mouth. John knew he couldn’t handle that, so he simply released the numbing agent his body produced to stop his victims from screaming. “Good,” Sherlock said as the bottle filled with an opaque liquid.

When Sherlock was done, he removed and capped the bottle with one hand and then dragged his finger along John’s lower sharp fang. “Oops,” he said nonchalantly.

Before John knew it, the delicate sweet and bitter flavors filled his pallet and turned his eyes as black as pitch. In an instant, John grabbed Sherlock with his one free hand, squeezing the man’s throat slightly. He hissed as he flipped them over so John was now covering Sherlock entirely with his body. For a full minute, John just kept his nose and mouth right at the crook of Sherlock’s neck, inhaling the scent that was driving him mad.

“John,” Sherlock wheezed, pushing at the vampire who held him down easily.

“Oh, now you’re scared?” John mocked, his voice an octave lower than normal. He could feel the slight tremors under Sherlock’s skin, taste the hormones his body was creating, hear his heart beating like a wild rabbits caught in a snare. It was all perfect, or at least the predator inside him told him it was. “I could kill you right now. Drink you dry, Sherlock Holmes,” John said, making the ‘s’ sizzle on his tongue.

“But you won’t,” Sherlock said, his voice barely above a whisper.

John savored that one small drop of blood in his mouth, then, calling up his years of experience, he licked Sherlock’s cut. The wound disappeared within seconds, as did the primal urge to latch onto Sherlock’s neck. His eyes turned blue again and his reined in his fangs. “Get me blood from the butchers.”

“No,” Sherlock said, sighing when the hand on his neck released its hold.

“If I go a few more days without it, I won’t be able to stop myself, Sherlock.” John stayed over the man for a few more moments, contemplating what to do. Finally, he came to the realization that there was nothing he could do. He was lying naked in a crazy vampire hunter’s bed, with nobody looking for him, no key to unlock his cuffs, and he couldn’t even intimidate the bastard to let him go. In the end, John was stuck between a rock and a psychopath. “If I let you do all your tests, will you let me go?”

Sherlock smirked, causing John to tighten his grip on his throat. “If you aren’t ever going to let me go, then why wouldn’t I just kill you now?”

“Go ahead,” Sherlock said, the smile never leaving his face. He lifted his head, pressing his neck tighter into John’s grasp. “You know you can’t, John. We’ve already been through this, and you seem to lack the gumption to strangle the life out of your captor.”

“I’ll let you do the tests, if you’ll at least let me out of the chains,” John changed his tactic. He knew Sherlock was right, damn it, and it was such an unfair advantage.

“So you can run? John, do you think me dense?”

“I won’t run, you have my word,” John said, and meant it too. Patience was a game he could play. _First step, get out of this damn bedroom._ “At least unlock me during the day. Where am I going to go?”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, thinking and actually considering John’s offer. “Deal,” he said slowly and wiggled below John. That’s when the vampire realized the hardness pressing on his arse. _Oh my God, he’s getting off on this!_ Sherlock only smiled and continued to wiggle his hips until John jumped off and rolled as far away from Sherlock as possible.

“Fine, let’s get this over with,” John said flipping onto his back, waiting for Sherlock.

Sherlock sat up, placing the vial on his little table and then picking up a small torch. He crawled back over to John, straddling his hips again. John could feel Sherlock’s erection pressing into his belly, and it scratched at something deep inside him. But John was old and had self-control, so he simply ignored it. _Don’t think about it. Damn it’s so warm. Don’t think about it. How much blood do you think is flowing through his cock right now? Don’t think about it!_

“Shift your eyes when I say so,” Sherlock told him, grabbing John’s bottom lid and top, spreading them apart. He switched the torch on and flicked it over John’s blue eye. “Okay, switch.”

John took a deep breath, filling his lungs with Sherlock’s scent and easily pulling up his darkness. His teeth came out involuntarily, drool pooling at the side of his mouth. Blackness took over his eyes, causing Sherlock to gasp in awe. He placed the bright light in front of John’s new eyes and the vampire hissed loudly, pushing the torch away.

“Don’t,” John growled. It burned something terrible to have such a bright light shone directly into his superior eyes. John knew how much better he could see, how heat signatures of where blood was located filled his vision.

“So your eyes are more sensitive? What can you see?” Sherlock asked, curious. He turned off the torch and dismounted John.

“Blood. Heat,” John told him, rubbing his eyes as they shifted back. It felt so much better when he was able to push down his vampire, his beast that always lurked in the shadows. When he brought it out like that, it felt as if his defenses waned a little bit every time.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” John said, annoyed. “I can hear it, see it, smell it all the fucking time!”

“That’s understandable,” Sherlock said, standing up to grab another vial and a needle. “It’s what keeps you alive. I’m sure your species has adapted through the ears to find exactly what you need to survive.” 

“What are you doing?” John asked, keeping his eye on the needle. If Sherlock though he was going to stab that in his eye, he had another thing coming.

“I need some of your blood. What little I know about vampires, I have observed your blood doesn’t flow like humans, so I can’t draw from your arm. Here, give me your finger.” Sherlock reached out, holding his hand as if inviting John to dance.

John hesitantly extended his hand, which Sherlock grabbed gently. “It remains stagnant, waiting for us to drink and our heart to beat,” John said. Sherlock hummed in response as he cleaned John’s finger with an alcohol wipe. He pricked John’s finger, watching intently as the thicker than normal blood oozed out. Sherlock squeezed the tip of John’s finger, letting the blood drip into the vial.

“That’s all I need,” Sherlock said, releasing John’s finger. The vampire licked the pad, tasting his own bland blood.

“So?”

“So, what?” Sherlock asked, more concerned with placing his supplies back on the table and writing something down.

“Will you unchain me in the morning?”

“Hmm,” Sherlock said, still not looking at John. “Not until you bite me.”

“Why are you so insistent on being bitten by a bloody vampire? Most people fear us. Hell, just look at all the media depicting us as monsters. And you know why, Sherlock? Because we are.” John knew all too well what kind of monster he could be.

Sherlock finally looked up from his table and stood up, fixing John with a serious stare. “I will take off the chains during the day when you bite me. End of discussion.” Sherlock grabbed his table and started to roll it out of the room.

“Where are you going?” John asked, a little panicked. The last thing he wanted was to be left alone. He had so many memories he’d swept under the carpet, and every time silence took over his mind, the carpet got pulled away and the demons came out to play.

“To make a phone call,” Sherlock said, “I want you to meet someone.”

“Who?”

“Another hunter. Trust me, you’ll like him. He has trouble killing things too.”      


	5. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's POV. A fellow hunter comes for a visit. It doesn't go as well as Sherlock would've hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone,
> 
> I hope you enjoy the new chapter! It is un-betad, so please forgive any mistakes.

Chapter 5 – Secrets

Sherlock trotted downstairs, as gleeful as a child on Christmas. _And I got the greatest gift of all!_ He put his vial of blood next to his microscope and pulled out a vial of his own from the fridge, setting it next to John’s. Before he started his experiment, Sherlock grabbed his mobile and called the only person he could trust with this information.

“’Ello,” Greg answered the phone, sounding like he had a bite of food in his mouth.

“Lestrade, I need you to come to my place, now,” Sherlock told him, looking at the vial of thick blood and twirling it around in his hand.

“What for? I’m eatin’ dinner,” he said, taking another bite. Sherlock could hear slurping on the other end of the phone. He rolled his eyes and separated his ear from the noise a touch.

“It’s an emergency. I need your help,” Sherlock told him, making his voice sound panicked. He knew Greg would never be able to live with himself if he let a friend deal with an emergency alone. So, playing to the other hunter’s weakness, Sherlock played to his strengths, and lied.

“Really? Yeah, yeah, okay, I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes, just hold on.”

With that, Sherlock hung up, placing his phone in his pocket and turning his attention to his microscope. He grabbed a small piece of plastic and used a pipette to drop some of John’s blood onto it. With the blood in place, Sherlock set it under the scope and ginned at what he saw.

His hypothesis was correct. The blood was completely dead, no plasma, no white blood cells, nothing. His blood was nothing but a liquid to keep his body from falling over. _Perhaps though, perhaps they use it somehow, someway that humans do not._ Continuing on, Sherlock grabbed his own blood and placed a few drops on top of John’s.

Sherlock watched in amazement at how the thick sludge began to attack the human blood, ripping out its life and taking it into itself. Even John’s blood fed on humans. _What does that mean?_ “Fascinating,” Sherlock clapped his hands once, then rubbed them through his hair.

Deciding to try and make a little peace with John, or at least to get him more comfortable before the final experiment, Sherlock grabbed a cup and filled it with orange juice. This would be a perfect way to relax the fidgety vampire, _after all, who doesn’t love orange juice_.

Sherlock went into his room to find John lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He looked up when Sherlock arrived, his eyes drifting to the juice. “I thought you might be thirsty,” Sherlock said, knowing very well that John had a completely different kind of thirst that was reaching its limits.

“Thanks,” the vampire actually said, taking Sherlock aback. _What kind of captive says thank you?_ Although he said ‘thank you,’ John didn’t reach out for the glass, so Sherlock used it as an excuse to get closer to the immortal beast. Slowly, Sherlock made his was around and onto the bed, sitting cross-legged next to John.

“Guess what I just found out?” Sherlock said, an air of smugness floating off him. He was the first to discover the secrets of the vampires, and now he was about to explode with excitement if he didn’t tell someone. No scientist had ever had a live subject to work with before. When vampires died, they turned to ash, which wasn’t the best form to study them in. But now, Sherlock had one delicious beast tied up for the taking.

“What?” John groaned, not even looking at Sherlock. Yes, John was fading quickly, and it would only be a matter of time before he took the plunge and bit Sherlock. Sherlock couldn’t wait to be bitten. He had so many ideas of what it might feel like, what he would see, hear. It was an unopened door, and Sherlock was about to take a battering ram to the barrier.  

“Even your blood is hungry. It attacked my human blood cells when I added them to yours. Brilliant!”

“Whatever,” John mumbled, rolling over and clutching at his stomach.

“What, you can’t tell me that’s not fascinating. And I’m the first one to discover it.” He held the glass of juice to John’s lips, nudging them slightly open. When the vampire still didn’t drink, Sherlock cupped the back of his head, tilting him forward. “You need something in you. Now, drink.”

Sherlock found himself rubbing slow circles with his thumb on John’s scalp. It was quite soothing, and John’s eyes began flutter. “You really think I wanted to know how violent my entire body is, including my blood? You think I need reminding what a monster I am? Jesus, Sherlock, just do your tests and leave me alone.”

“But John you’re not-” _a monster,_ he was going to say, but was cut off by a loud knock at the door. He hopped up off the bed, spilling a drop of juice on the comforter. “Stay here.”

“Oh, ha ha,” John griped, tugging on his hand cuffs.

Sherlock flew down the stairs and opened the door to find Greg standing in the doorway. “Sherlock,” he greeted, nodding his head. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, of course everything is alright, don’t be obtuse,” Sherlock rolled his eyes, but let his fellow hunter in to the flat.

“Well then why did you tell me it was an emergency?” Greg asked, exasperated. The man looked tired, Sherlock noticed. There were bags under his eyes and by the grey dust on the cuff of his sleeve, it was obvious the hunter had freed a vampire today.

It was always hard on Greg. Though he was a phenomenal hunter, the man just seemed to abhor killing in general. Sherlock remembered on Greg’s first kill, the man had thrown up something awful. His heart was growing harder against the begging and pleading of their prey, but it obviously still took a toll on him.

“I need to show you something, but you have to promise to keep it between us. Can you do that?” Sherlock fixed him with his sternest gaze, knowing if the man said he wouldn’t tell anyone, then he wouldn’t.

“Are you in some kind of trouble, Sherlock,” Greg said, looking around the flat for any signs of distress. “Did you accidentally kill a human?”

“What? Oh God no. Do you think me a novice?”

“Well it wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened.” Greg shoved past Sherlock, examining the area. His head shot up to the second floor when he heard a loud clang, like something had dropped to the floor and continued to roll around. “Who’s up there?” Greg asked, turning around to face Sherlock with a cheeky grin on his face. “A girl? Oh no, that’s right, Mycroft said you were into boys.” The man wagged an eyebrow, showing he approved. 

Again, Sherlock rolled his eyes, in awe of how primal normal peoples’ brains were. “Will you just promise you won’t tell anyone and follow me?”

“Yeah, alright, I promise,” Greg said, trailing behind Sherlock as they made their way to the second floor.

“Good. Now, whatever you do, don’t panic. He’s harmless,” Sherlock said, as he opened the door to reveal the vampire in his bed. John had knocked off a thick plastic vase, which was now sitting idle on the ground. Sherlock couldn’t find any reason for the vampires actions, but let it be, in favor of watching Lestrade’s reaction.

“Hi,” John said dumbly, waving his hand.

“You’re a…you’re a…” Greg stuttered, seeing the ashen skin of a vampire.

“Yep, I’m a vampire. Now, could you please convince this git to let me go?” John said, sitting up in the bed. His face looked more pale than normal, but he seemed to still have some spunk left in him.

Reflexively, Greg grabbed the stake from the holster on his hip and arched his arm back to throw it at the vampire. “No!” Sherlock shouted, going for the piece of wood. John hissed at the man, jumping up into a crouch as the stake flew straight for his heart. With lightning speed reflexes, John caught the weapon and broke it in half with a dark growl.

“Greg, stop,” Sherlock said, grabbing the man when he tried to pull out another weapon to take down the vampire. “He’s okay. He’s mine.”

“Yours?” John asked, surprise and distain in his voice. Honestly, Sherlock had no idea why he said John was ‘his,’ it just sounded right. After all, he did catch him, he did chain him to his bed, he did perform ground breaking experiments with him, and he even tried to feed him. John technically was his now, whether the vampire liked it or not.

“Yours?” Greg asked, repeating John’s shocked tone. The older hunter continued to glare at John, ready to act if the beast came at them.

“It’s alright, Greg, he’s secure and plus, John won’t hurt us,” Sherlock said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Won’t hurt us? He’s a bloody vampire, Sherlock! Of course he’ll hurt us! That’s what they do!”

“You don’t understand. He’s different than the others. John doesn’t kill his prey, he only drinks from them, then buys them a cab ride home.”

“Okay…okay,” Greg said, pulling away from Sherlock and running a hand through his hair. “This is a phase, In’it? You just want to do your stupid little experiments and then let him go, right? Just like that whole hedgehog thing last spring, yeah?”

“Something like that, yes,” Sherlock said, holding a hand up to John to tell him to lie back down. The vampire stayed ramrod straight for a few more seconds, then slowly sat back down, crossing his legs. _That’s right, John._

“I’m calling Mycroft,” Greg said, pulling out his mobile.

“What? No, no, you are not. You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone, Greg,” Sherlock reached for the phone, but contrary to popular belief, Greg was much faster than the younger man.

If his brother found out about this, there would be hell to pay. Not to mention all of his work would be cast aside and John would be murdered. John was the first innocent vampire he’d met, and Sherlock sure as hell wasn’t about to let anything happen to him. Surly Greg could see that John was different, surely.  

“This is sick, Sherlock. You can’t keep a vampire like some kind of lab rat.”

 “Thank you,” John lifted a hand up and waved it towards Greg to show his agreement.

“You be quiet, vampire,” Greg said, pointing at the beast on the bed.

“Greg, listen, you have no idea how much I’ve learned already. What I discover from this vampire will aid hunters in tracking them down and releasing them. I’m helping the greater good, isn’t that why you joined the Leauge?”

John growled at this, his voice a low rumble that sounded like rolling thunder.

“I can’t let you put yourself at risk like this. Mycroft would never forgive me,” Greg said, dialing his phone. Before he hit call though, Sherlock jumped into the bed with John.  “What the bloody hell are you doing?!” Greg shouted.

Sherlock knew exactly what he was doing, as he shimmied up to sit next to John. He twisted so he was on his back and his head lay in John’s lap. “Bite me,” he said, a mischievous grin on his face.

John had a confused look on his face, until his gaze drifted to the vein in Sherlock’s neck. For a moment, Sherlock thought this might have been a bad idea to test John in front of Greg. But when the vampire’s eyes stayed blue, he knew everything was going to be alright.

“Sherlock, for the love of Christ,” Greg said, grabbing Sherlock’s ankle and pulling him away and off the bed. The older man pulled him up, holding him at arm’s length and checking him over for any injuries.

“I’m fine Greg, John won’t hurt me,” Sherlock said, winking at John. The vampire had a scowl on his face, but didn’t say anything, only kept his eyes darting from Sherlock to Greg.

“You’re a madman! A bloody madman, I tell ya! I’m calling your brother,” he said, going back to dialing his phone.

“One week,” Sherlock said, grabbing the man’s arm before he could hit send. “Just one week and then I’ll let him go.”

Greg stared at him for a long moment, then turned his gaze to John. “He’s hungry. You need to get him something to drink before he drinks you, Sherlock.”

“So you’ll let me keep him?” Sherlock asked, as if John were a stray puppy he’d found on the street.

“One week,” Greg told him, poking Sherlock in the chest, “and if you don’t let him go and put his name back on the Leagues list, I’ll tell Mycroft.”

“Deal. Now, do you want to see what I’ve found out?”

“No, Sherlock, I really don’t,” Greg said, looking back at John with a sad expression on his face. “I wish you would have never shown me this.”

It was obvious by the look on the man’s face that he felt sorry for John. Even though Greg was trained to kill vampires, he couldn’t help but feel some compassion for the creature on the bed. Sherlock did too, of course, he wasn’t a monster. It was his curiosity though, that trumped all, and John was just too much of an anomaly to let go.

“Well, you’ve seen it now and you can’t tell anyone,” Sherlock said, releasing the man’s arm.

“I said I wouldn’t, so I won’t. At least not for a week,” Greg said, heading towards the exit. “Be careful here, Sherlock. You don’t know what a hungry animal is capable of.”

Sherlock just waved him off, turning around to smile at John. The vampire was tired, his body obviously needing blood to rejuvenate its self. _I’d give it just one more day before you finally snap, John Watson._  

“I’ll show myself out,” Greg said, waving once to Sherlock and giving John a weary look.

“Did you hear that John,” Sherlock sat down on the bed and began stroking a hand through John’s hair. “One full week we get to be together.” It was so exciting. Sherlock would get to keep his vampire for an entire week, and soon, John would bite him and his last experiment would be complete. He would be the only human to survive and remember being bitten. Oh it was all so perfect, Sherlock could barely control himself.

“Yeah,” John said morosely, “one week.”

  


	6. What You Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's POV. John's finally at his breaking point.

Chapter 6 – What You Wanted

John was hungry, no, John was starving. It had been three days since he had eaten and his animal inside was starting to claw at his skin. He could smell Sherlock even though the human was downstairs working on his latest experiment. The odor was intoxicating, taking his breath away and making his heart want to start beating in his chest. And damn it, if he didn’t stop drooling he didn’t know what he was going to do.

He filled his days with pulling on his restraints, trying to sleep, and waiting for Sherlock to come back and do God knows what to him; and Sherlock gallivanting around, presenting his neck all the time didn’t help either. John wasn’t sure how much longer he would stop himself from grabbing Sherlock and latching on to his neck. Especially when the man came in with some toast and jam and a cup of tea, his veins displayed for John to see every single one of them.

“Good evening, John,” Sherlock greeted, a knowing smile on his face. The human knew exactly what was about to happen, but at the same time, he had no idea what John was capable of. “Sleep well?”

John could stop his hands from shaking as he took the tray of food, knowing it would not quench his thirst. The constant thumping of Sherlock’s heart was driving the vampire crazy. He could hear Sherlock, smell Sherlock, even feel Sherlock, and now he wanted to taste. He had to taste that rich sweet blood again, he had to.

While Sherlock kneeled half way on the bed, John threw his tray against the wall, letting the hungry beast inside him break free. His eyes turned black and his teeth dropped in under a second, as he grabbed Sherlock by the collar of his shirt and threw him down on the bed. John straddled the taller man’s hips, pinning his hands above his head with one of his own.

John pressed his nose up against the crook of Sherlock’s neck, hearing how the man’s heartbeat had sped up tremendously. “Sherlock,” John shaky voice said. He tried so hard to fight against that dark part of him, even though he knew it was pointless. In the end, the vampire always won.

Sherlock had a wide smile on his face, but there was also fear in his silver eyes as he looked up at John. “You smell…you smell so good,” John breathed, sniffing and nuzzling the human’s neck. John used his other hand to turn and hold Sherlock’s head to the side, completely restraining his prey.

“John,” Sherlock’s smile was gone and he squirmed uselessly in John’s grasp. “John wait,” he said, but it was too late. Drool fell from John’s mouth landing on the pale neck, numbing the area. A growl came from somewhere deep inside him when he heard his prey whimper. After a moment of looking down into panicked eyes, John struck with the force of a shot gun.

_Oh that’s…that’s good._ John began to drink deeply from Sherlock’s twitching form. He gently stroked Sherlock hair and ear as he held him in place, in an attempt to keep the man calm.

Blood began filling his veins, making his heart start to beat and push the much needed fluids through his limbs. John grunted and growled as he drank, not noticing that his hips began to cant, rubbing his erection against Sherlock’s slowly hardening cock. Blood was filling every orifice of his body, especially the parts that tingled with pleasure from just a mere touch. It seemed that having so much blood fill his system at once, had sent his body into some type of frenzy, making the vampire excited and uncontrollable.   

Bursts of flavor danced along his tongue with every suck. Sweet marshmallows and coffee filled his senses in a way only Sherlock could. John relished every drop that hit his tongue until his beast became sated and his cognizant mind started to return. Reluctantly, John pulled away, licking the two bright red marks until they closed up completely. He slowed his hips, looking down at the hardness in his pants. _Well, fuck._

He let go of Sherlock’s hands and licked his own lips, making sure to get every drop into his mouth. Sherlock’s eyes were half lidded, a dazed look covering the man’s face.

John knew he’d be in a drugged state for at least fifteen minutes, so the vampire dismounted the man’s hips and lay back down on his back. Lowering his trousers and pants down to mid-thigh, John grabbed his achingly hard cock and began stroking himself. He could feel the warm blood pumping through him and down to his cock, making it warm in his cold hand.

John bucked his hips up into his hand, moaning and whimpering as he felt the smooth pull of skin from his hand. Picturing Sherlock below him, fidgeting and crying out as he drank from him and fucked him, John came with a breathy sigh. “Oh God,” John said, trying to remember the last time he’d had a full enough meal to be able to wank.

He laid there, his trousers half way down his legs and his come stained hand rubbing over his full belly, until finally, Sherlock began to stir. John put himself back in his pants and sat up to hover over Sherlock. A steady heart beat filled his ears, providing John with much needed relief. He was worried his vampire had got the best of him and he had taken too much blood.

Silver eyes opened fully to look up at John, who gave a small thankful smile. “Whoa,” Sherlock said, putting his hand against his neck to feel if there were any bite marks. “That was…that was,” Sherlock started, but when he tried to sit up, his head fell back down like a rock.

“Easy, Sherlock. You just lost a lot of blood,” John said, sympathetic to the human. John leaned over the other side of the bed and grabbed the piece of toast Sherlock had brought for him. “Here, eat,” he said, holding the toast to Sherlock’s pale lips. When Sherlock tried to push it away, John sighed and grabbed ahold of him, pulling him up to lay half way on the vampire and half on the bed. “I said, eat,” John said again, grabbing Sherlock’s jaw and opening it easily. He placed a piece of toast into his mouth, sighing with relief as the man started to chew.

John felt the heat of Sherlock’s back pressing against his chest and stomach. He was always amazed at how quickly humans could start producing heat and more blood after they had been feasted on. “I’m sorry,” John said into Sherlock’s hair, rubbing the man’s arm. “I told you this would happen.”

Sherlock took a few more bites of the toast, his hand digging into John’s thigh. “That was…brilliant!” Sherlock said, letting his head fall back so he could look up at John. The man’s eyes were alight with intrigue and wonder, making John’s heart sink a little. He had hoped once Sherlock had experienced being bitten, he would wright down his results and be done with it.

“I didn’t feel a thing,” Sherlock said, squirming against John so he could sit up and turn around. “And…and the sucking! It was like…like-” Sherlock continued to ramble, until John filled him in to what had happened.

“You were high,” John said, holding out the toast for Sherlock to finish eating. The human took it and threw it across the room, his eyes focused on nothing but John. “As I take your blood, I release some neuro chemical that affects humans. It makes you feel like everything is okay, so you don’t run.”

Sherlock was breathing heavily, his face pale, but John could tell the man’s mind was moving a mile a minute. “Do it again,” Sherlock said, “I need to document the effects now that I won’t be taken by surprise.

“No way, Sherlock,” John said, knitting his brow. “I nearly killed you this time. I can’t take any more blood, at least not today.”

“But you have to!” Sherlock shouted, his eyes crazy. “I need it!”

“Sherlock, calm down,” John begged, holding up his hands. John had never had contact with one of his victims after he’d bitten them. _Is this what happens to them? What have I done?_ Sherlock’s pupils were blown and his hand was shaking and sweaty. “Look, if you go downstairs, bring some food up here and eat it, I’ll drink a little out of your wrist tomorrow, yeah?”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the vampire, but nodded his head once. “I don’t see why you fight it so much. It’s obvious you love it by the way you couldn’t even control your lust.” He lifted his shirt up to reveal two reddish bruises forming on both his pale hipbones.

“Oh God, Sherlock, I’m…I’m so sorry,” John said, covering his mouth in shock at how hard he had rutted against Sherlock’s hips. _I thought I was barely moving my hips. I can’t believe I was that far gone._

With a grin on his face, Sherlock left the bed and walked out of the room. John dropped his head back into the pillow with a soft thump. His body was so happy with him right now. All the blood in his system was creating a euphoric state, much like the one Sherlock was in. Just the thought of drinking from the man again sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. Sherlock was the most delicious human he’d ever had, and to top it off, the man wanted to be a meal.

It wasn’t right though, John knew. Sherlock was already showing signs of addiction and he’d only been bitten once. John didn’t know how far gone Sherlock was, especially after the wild look he saw in the man’s eyes. Not to mention they only had for more days together before that Greg character told Mycroft bloody Holmes about him. _What am I supposed to say to him? Hi, I’m John Watson, I bit your brother and now he’s addicted to it. Sorry ‘bout that._

Sherlock broke John’s train of thought when he walked into the room with a ham sandwich and a glass of orange juice. He sat on John’s bed, scooting in next to him with his back resting on the head board. “Tomorrow, I will unchain you and you will drink from me slow enough that I can record the data. You will feed from me once a day so you will not take too much like this time.” Sherlock took a bite of his sandwich, then looked at John.

“Sherlock,” John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “this isn’t some game. It’s not good for you to be feasted on every day. Plus, I need to know what’s going to happen to me at the end of the week. Is your brother going to release the entire league on me because I’m drinking from his baby brother?”

“Most likely,” Sherlock said, drinking his juice. “But, I’ll make sure he can’t get to you.”

John rolled his eyes. If the rumors were true, there was nothing that could stand in Mycroft’s way if he wanted something badly enough. _How did I end up in this mess?_ “Thanks, Sherlock,” John said sarcastically, “that really makes me feel better.”

“Good, because now that I have you, I won’t let anything, not even my brother, take you away.” He said, a fierceness in his eyes that John had never seen before. He thought Sherlock was okay, he never really hurt John, but the man still held him captive. And there was something wrong with a man who said ‘because now that I have you, I won’t let anything take you away.’

“Sherlock, you know this can’t be permanent, right?”

Sherlock had a small eerie smile on his face as he looked at John. “That’s what you think.”   


	7. Feel Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a master plan to seduce John into biting him again. Is John strong enough to resist?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay folks, this is getting a wee bit sexy, so I hope you like it :) 
> 
> Un-beta'd, so please forgive the mistakes.

Chapter 7 – Feel Again

Sherlock was ecstatic! It felt like actual electricity was flowing through his veins. He had never felt this way, never, not in his entire life, and now John, a blood sucking vampire, brought about feelings of ecstasy.

When John drank from him, it was the most sensual, fulfilling feeling in the entire world. The slight suction and draw of blood pulled on Sherlock from the inside, making him shiver just recalling it. There was a lightness, a floating feeling as he lay there and let John drink from him and hump him until the vampire was done.

Sherlock felt helpless at the time, staring up at big black eyes, wondering if this was his last breath of air. It was freeing in a way, scary as hell, but freeing to let go and embrace the high from the drugs John was pumping him full of.

He sat on his couch, his knees pulled up to his chest, shivering as his body metabolized the drugs. Sweat made his forehead shine and his palms slippery as he wringed them together. Sherlock needed John, needed the man to drink from him while they… _God, I want to be inside him._ His whole body tingled and his cock was still hard in his pants from the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

It had been too long since he’d been with somebody, and John was the perfect specimen to have a little ‘fun’ with. It was the greatest tension reliever, except for maybe being bitten by a vampire, and now he could have both! He could just imagine what it would feel like to be drained of blood while he drained himself inside John. Yes, he needed this, his mind, his body, they both needed this desperately.

Clapping his shaky hands together, Sherlock stood up with a grin on his face. It was nearly dawn, which meant he could let John loose until sundown again. It would take great care and precision to seduce John into biting him again so soon, and even more so to let Sherlock fuck him until he moaned into the sheets.

“One step at a time, Sherlock,” he told himself, knowing that in time, John would come to him and beg for his blood. Sherlock knew what drugs did to people, and he knew his blood was a drug to John. So yes, there was no doubt in the hunter’s mind that John would be chomping at the bit when Sherlock came around.

He went upstairs and into John’s room to find the vampire sitting cross-legged, waiting for him. “Feeling better after you’ve had a bit to eat, yes?” Sherlock asked, walking over to the chains at the side of the bed.

John looked away, meaning, yes, he felt much better. _Poor John, still trying to play human?_ The vampire had rubbed a hole in the sheet from frantically picking at the fibers with his thumb. “You said you’d unchain me,” he said, looking up to glare at Sherlock.

“I did,” Sherlock said, pulling at a key and waving it in John’s face. “Do you promise to behave yourself, vampire?” he said, adding emphasis on the ‘vampire.’

“Unchain me, human,” John tried to sound disgusted when he said it, but Sherlock could hear the longing. Whether the longing was from the blood within a human’s neck or that he wanted to be one, Sherlock didn’t know.

“As you wish.” With that, Sherlock unlocked the cuff on John’s wrist and ankle, letting his fingers linger on the cold skin just a moment longer than necessary. This was killing him! Sherlock had to touch John, had to taste him, breathe him in. He needed to feel those teeth holding onto him, for Christ’s sake! But for now, Sherlock would play the cat, seducing the mouse into grabbing the cheese before he himself was grabbed and devoured.

“Sherlock, are you okay? You don’t look so good,” John said, rubbing his wrist as soon as it was released. The vampire looked truly worried about him, wish oddly made Sherlock feel a heated coal growing inside his belly.

“I’m fine. I’ve just eaten more in one day than I have in an entire month.”

John looked at him strangely, then started to laugh. “You’re one crazy git, aren’t you?”

“Be that as it may, I’m going to watch the telly and, if convenient, I would like you to join me.” With that, Sherlock turned on his heel and walked out of the room, calling over his shoulder, “if inconvenient, come anyway.”

For a moment, he thought John wouldn’t follow him, but when he arrived at the bottom of the steps, he heard the slight thump of someone walking down behind him. Sherlock smiled and flopped down on the couch, his robe and pajama trousers swishing behind him. Now, he would wait for his chance, like a lioness waits in the brush.

“Cuppa?” John asked, looking around and crinkling his nose at the messy living room and kitchen.

“Yes, no sugar, a dash of milk,” Sherlock answered him, simultaneously acting like he was watching the telly and keeping an eye on John’s movements. He knew the vampire couldn’t go anywhere when there was light outside, but he still had to keep an eye on him. John was a feisty one after all, but that’s why Sherlock was drawn to him.

“Is this my blood?” John asked, heading into the kitchen and eyeing Sherlock’s microscope and vials.

“And my blood,” Sherlock added, still not giving John his full attention. The best way to capture prey is to get the comfortable, which meant not staring at them like they’re a piece of meat.

“Oh,” John said dumbly, as he started to brew the kettle. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? I’ve never seen what happens to the people I drink from. Any type of withdrawal symptoms?”

“No,” Sherlock said, maybe a tad too quickly. He had had enough of this waiting, damn it. Sherlock needed John’s teeth on him, now! Sherlock reached for the half full glass of water on the table and smashed it on the wood, leaving a big broken piece in his hand. He quickly turned his back to John and sliced a gash at the top and inner part of his thigh, right next to his crotch.

It burned something horrible, but it was well worth it when John pulled the kettle off and rushed over. “What happened?!” he said, panicked. Sherlock dropped the piece of glass, which had inadvertently cut his hand too.

“It slipped,” Sherlock said, inwardly smiling at how upset his captive was that he was hurt.

John gave him a stern look of disbelief, but he still knelt down to examine the wound.

“Here,” Sherlock said, standing up and shimmying out of his trousers before John could say anything. Luckily, he was soft at the time, so John would think he was up to something. He sat back in the chair, his black pants sitting just above the wide cut.

“Sherlock, I-” John said, leaning back a little. Sherlock knew he was losing him, so he stuck his bleeding hand up first. John’s eyes were huge, looking back from Sherlock to his hand, his mind trying to solve a huge dilemma.

With his doctor side winning, John took the hand, cupping it gently in both of his. He let his tongue skim over the cut, causing a slight burning sensation and then a brief taste of pleasure. Sherlock sighed, lifting his hips slightly off the couch and rubbing his other hand over his chest. Without thinking, he put his hand on John’s head and tried to pull him in to lick his thigh.

In a flash, John growled and threw himself backwards, hitting the wall and plastering himself to it. “I know what you’re trying to do,” John snapped. _Damn._

“I know you want it too, John,” Sherlock said, letting his hand splay out on his stomach and his legs spread wide in invitation. “Just…just a little taste. Please, are going to let me bleed out, here?” Sherlock said, playing on John’s caregiving nature. As an extra incentive, Sherlock put his hand around the gash and squeezed, forcing more blood out. A line of deep read dripped down his inner thigh, almost touching where his bollocks were stowed away.

John’s eyes only left the bleeding cut once, to give Sherlock a pleading look. “Don’t make me do this,” John gritted out, but his feet brought him forward. He dropped to his knees with a hard thud, and placed his hands on both of Sherlock’s thighs.

Sherlock watched as his eyes slowly turned black, an eclipse taking place over a deep blue ocean. John put a hand on Sherlock’s belly and one on his knee, then slowly moved his head to the cut. Sherlock didn’t miss the way John continued to sniff and fight not to nuzzle Sherlock’s hardening cock.

John slowly ran his tongue over the gash, unconsciously rubbing Sherlock’s stomach with his hand. Once it was closed up, John followed the line that had trickled down farther. Sherlock could feel the breath on his crotch, making his whole body shiver. When John was done, he didn’t leave, he only stayed there and began nudging Sherlock through his pants.

A low rolling growl came from the vampire, and before Sherlock knew what happened, John latched on to the sensitive part of his inner thigh. “Ah!” his scream turned into a moan of pleasure when John started to suck greedily from the pale thigh. John’s hand moved down slowly to grip the waist band of Sherlock’s pants and pull them down. Sherlock’s hard cock sprang free, bouncing once off his belly.

John slowed his sucking, digging his teeth in a little deeper, and started to run his cold hand up and down Sherlock’s shaft. “John,” he whispered, letting his hand rest on John’s head. He didn’t pull or push, but merely let his hand rest there and play with the short strands of hair.

John growled in return, keeping his teeth latched on, but barely sucking any more blood out of the man. Sherlock started to feel light, as if he had just had the best hit of cocaine ever. No, no drug could compare to what John was doing to him. The combination of being jerked off, and being drained was like lying on a fluffy cloud, with a slight breeze and the entire solar system visible in the clear night sky… _while eating Swedish fish._

“Oh God,” Sherlock said, his whole body tensing as John held him tighter to the couch. He came with a groan, his whole body shaking as come shot onto his chest. John finally pulled away, his eyes turning blue again and the intimidating canines pulling back up into his gums. “John, that was…that was,” Sherlock tried to say, his post orgasmic state, along with the drugs coursing through his veins, getting the better of him.

John looked at the bite mark as it closed up, his eyes in a daze. “This can’t happen again, Sherlock. I could have-”

“But you didn’t,” Sherlock told him, lazily caressing John’s face, even as the vampire pulled away.

“I wanted to,” John told him, standing up and running upstairs.

“John!” Sherlock shouted, but his legs wouldn’t let him stand up. _Well that didn’t end how I planned._ He tried to care, he really did, but God did he feel good right now. Then, a knock interrupted his high. “Grrr,” he actually growled. Slowly standing up, he didn’t even bother to put his trousers back on, but he did however, tuck himself back in his pants.

“What?” he snapped, opening the door. Greg stood in the hallway, his eye brow cocked at the sight of the man before him.

“What in the hell? Get back inside before Mrs. Hudson sees you,” Greg said, turning Sherlock around and ushering him back inside. The older hunter closed the door before turning around to fix Sherlock with a questioning gaze.

“Lestrade,” Sherlock greeted, smiling dumbly. “To what do I owe the…erm,” he paused trying to think of what he knew he was supposed to say. “Pleasure! Yes, yes, pleasure!”

“What is on your shirt?” Greg asked, reaching out to touch the drying white liquid. “Is that…oh my God!” he shouted, rubbing his finger back on Sherlock when he realized he had someone’s come on his finger.

“I just had the most amazing orgasm,” Sherlock thought Greg should know. He still felt amazing, even the scowl on Greg’s face couldn’t hold him down.

“Thanks mate, didn’t need to know that. Are you…”Greg took a step closer, grabbing Sherlock’s head and holding his eye lid open. “Are you high? Damn it, Sherlock,” he said when he saw completely blown pupils staring back at him. “What is it this time? Cocaine? Pain meds?”

“I’m fine, Gary,” Sherlock said, flopping back down in his chair and looking up at the ceiling. He never noticed how great it was, how ceiling-y.

Greg sighed, rubbing had hand over his face. “I’m not helping you this time, Sherlock. I’m calling Mycroft so he can deal with your high arse.” The man pulled out his phone as he walked out and slammed the door behind him.

Sherlock sat there, in his own peace and quiet, relishing in the tingles vibrating through his body. “John!” he called to the vampire upstairs, “come put my pants on!” _Life is good._ Now, all Sherlock had to do was worry about his meddling brother. He could handle that, easy. All he needed was John to bite him again, just one more time, that’s all.           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT VOTE: Okay, so I have two endings that I can't choose from. One is extremely dark, like, "holy shit what's wrong with that girl," dark. The other ending I was thinking about is much lighter. It does have a bit of darkness to it, but it is no where near the latter. I'd like to know what you guys would like in the comments. Be warned, the darker ending will be very sad and quite depressing, but if that's what y'all are looking for, then I'm more than happy to write it. Anyways, happy voting :)


	8. Can't Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's POV directly after chapter seven. John gives in to his darker side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Wow, I was really amazed by the response I got for the vote. Since so many people voted and some wanted good while others wanted bad, I will be writing both endings. The good-ish ending will be the official one and the darker one will be an alternate ending. Thank you all for voting, now here, have some smut on the house. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 8 – Can’t Stop

John sat in the closet of Sherlock’s room; his eyes as black as onyx and his body hotter than the sun. He could feel the blood pumping through his veins, making his heart beat and his face flush. The blood also rushed to his lower regions, making his cock elongated and rock hard, ready for him to take what his body was telling him was his.

Sherlock did this to him. He forced him to drink, forced him to jerk him off, forced him to love it. It was all John could do to not run back down those stairs and sink his teeth and cock into Sherlock’s waiting body. The cravings were getting worse, especially after having so much of Sherlock’s delicious blood.

He could still taste it on his tongue, as if it was becoming part of his being. Sherlock’s voice echoed through his head, the moans and sighs taking front row seats. Something had broken loose inside John’s head and now the dark creature he truly was, was coming out to play. John was helpless to stop it.

There were footsteps coming up to the room, Sherlock’s footsteps, his Sherlock’s footsteps. John closed his eyes and chanted to himself that he could control himself, he didn’t need to take and claim Sherlock, he was better than this primal animal that stalked the gates. But when Sherlock walked into the room, his sweet toasty smell hit John’s brain like an arrow.

“John?” Sherlock called, his voice still high pitch from all the drugs coursing through his system. “John, where are you?” he said, stumbling into the room. John could hear him getting closer to the closet door, and once he opened it, John knew all hell would break loose. “I know you’re in there,” Sherlock giggled.

With one swift move, Sherlock slid open the door and John leapt. The human landed on ground with John growling on top of him. His teeth had dropped, but his eyes now had a thin ring of blue circling his blown pupils. “You shouldn’t have come up here,” John purred, rubbing his face against the side of Sherlock’s. The warm smooth flesh made John buck his hips down into Sherlock’s.

“But I wanted to,” Sherlock groaned, grinding his hips up to meet John. A hardness pressed against his own, and that’s when John knew he no longer had control of his actions.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” John sprang up with inhuman speed, and reached down to grab Sherlock. He threw the man on the bed, chuckling darkly as Sherlock squeaked.

“So show me,” Sherlock smiled lazily. It was obvious Sherlock was still high, but to John it was a positive, as it kept his prey lethargic and unable to get away. The scenario was perfect, and John was ready to take what was his.

With the grace of a feline, John stalked over to Sherlock, grabbing his pajama trousers and yanking them off. Sherlock gasped and shimmied farther up the bed, away from John. Although the man was only trying to get into better position, John saw his meal getting away and jumped on the bed, straddling Sherlock’s hips and pressing his shoulders down. He snarled and ripped Sherlock’s shirt over his head, then pressed his forehead to where he could see all the red glowing veins meet. John licked the skin over Sherlock’s heart, moving down to his nipple and nibbling on it lightly.

God, did Sherlock taste just as good on the outside as he did on the inside. Maybe even better! John ran his tongue and hands all over Sherlock’s body, pulling in his canines when he grew closer to the man’s erect cock. He buried his nose in the short dark hairs, sniffing deeply and making Sherlock buck his hips. A dark smile spread across John’s lips, aware that he had Sherlock under his spell.

“John,” Sherlock gasped, reaching down for John’s head. He slid his fingers through the vampire’s hair, pulling the strands a bit. John planted a few kisses along Sherlock’s inner thigh, relishing in the heat he could feel emanating from the human’s crotch. With one last kiss, John opened his mouth and took Sherlock’s cock all the way to the back of his throat.

“Fuck!” Sherlock cried, his back arching off the bed. John bobbed his head, sucking and swirling his tongue around. He held Sherlock’s wiggling hips down easily, giving a particularly fatal lick to the head to remove the precome.

John finally pulled off, leaving Sherlock lying boneless on the bed. It was time. John flipped Sherlock over, petting his back to calm the wild animal before it was taken to slaughter. Slowly, he worked his hands down to Sherlock’s arse. John licked his finger, getting slick saliva and the numbing agent all over his pointer finger. As he pressed his finger against the puckered hole, Sherlock jumped and threw his hands back.

“No,” he mumbled, but didn’t move away.

John growled. He wanted to just take, and now Sherlock was stopping him. It took everything he had to fight off his predatory need, and be patient with the human who had already made his way to the center of the spider web. “Why’s that, love?” John purred, keeping his finger circling Sherlock’s hole while he kissed along the man’s back.

“I’m…I’m top,” he said, trying to flip over. Now that was not happening. John laughed at the naiveté of the man below him. He was a vampire and Sherlock was a human, there was only one way this could go down. Sherlock was Johns to take, not the other way around.

“Not today,” John said, shoving his slicked finger into Sherlock’s tight hole. The man stiffened for a moment, but when John wiggled his finger around, Sherlock let his hands fall to his sides. The man moaned below him and started to hump the bed, giving his aching cock much needed friction. “Like that, do ya?” he smiled and added another slicked up finger.

The numbing agent was doing its job beautifully. Sherlock never once winced or cried out from pain as John slowly opened him up. When John could fit three fingers inside the gaping hole, he knew it was time. Slowly, John slid his arm under Sherlock and lifted him up so they both were on their knees.

With one hand splayed out over Sherlock’s belly and the other lining himself up, John pushed forward. Lava seemed to consume his cock as the burning tight heat enveloped him. A low possessive growl came from John throat as he lowered his hand to start stroking Sherlock. There were little twitches around his cock with every jerk of Sherlock’s.

Sherlock’s heart was beating so fast, something deep inside John telling him to rip it out and feast upon the human. But John didn’t, instead he moved his hips, earning a groan from Sherlock. John wrapped one hand around Sherlock’s chest and began plowing into him, desperation and a darkness fueling his need.

When he could feel Sherlock’s bollocks draw up, John knew what would come next. He grabbed the man’s head and tilted it to the side, preparing to strike.  “I’m gonna…I’m gonna-” Sherlock whined, stiff in John’s arms. With that, John shoved himself deep into Sherlock and bit down on the blue vein sticking up beneath the pale flesh.

John felt a burst of ecstasy as he simultaneously came inside Sherlock and bit his neck. His hips jerked as he unloaded himself, making Sherlock his. Sherlock grunted and came while John stroked him through it. He only took little sips, even though he wanted to take the whole thing. John knew this morsel of delicious blood was much too precious to be used up in one bite.

He pulled away, licking the area to clean off the excess blood and close the wound. Sherlock whined and went limp in his hold, making John smile. His human was worn out, and now it was time to make sure he was safe and sound so he could replenish his blood supply.

“There we go,” John said, pulling out and letting Sherlock lie down in the bed. He made sure they weren’t on Sherlock’s come, and then pulled Sherlock’s back to his chest, wrapping his arm around the man.

Just as Sherlock nodded off, John heard someone moving downstairs. He sniffed the air, but the scent was unfamiliar. John remembered hearing the conversation Sherlock had with Lestrade, but he questioned whether Sherlock’s brother could get her so quickly. His answer came though, when he heard a shout coming from downstairs.

“I know you’re up there vampire. I will only tell you once; come down with your hands up and we won’t hurt you.”

John scoffed. There was no way they could hurt him, not while he was so full of blood. But, he had Sherlock to worry about. He couldn’t allow them up here to bother him while he’s recuperating. John reached over and felt a shallow pulse on Sherlock’s throat. _Well that’s not good._ Suddenly, he started to panic. What if he killed the leader of the League’s brother? That’s when a wonderful, beautiful thought danced into John’s infested mind. He could turn Sherlock into a vampire. Yes, yes, that would be his way out of this.

John knew all new vampires had to remain with their sires until they were five years old. If Mycroft tried to take Sherlock away, the newly transformed vampire would wither away. The darkness in John smiled. It would be his first vampire, and Sherlock was perfect for the job.

Opening up the man’s mouth, John bit his wrist and let the blood pour down Sherlock’s throat. Sherlock coughed a little, sputtering, but soon quieted down and drank eagerly from John. “Good,” he said, stoking Sherlock’s hair.

When he was done, John pulled away and licked his wrist. As John sat on the bed, waiting for Sherlock to change, his teeth drew back up and his eyes became blue again. He looked down at the man on the bed, seeing the dried blood around his mouth. _Oh my God._ John jumped out of bed, the sounds of footsteps coming up the stairs making him panic.

He had just bitten Sherlock and changed him into a vampire. A bloody vampire! Sherlock had never asked for that, and now his choice was taken away. John covered his mouth in shear horror. “What have I done?”        

             


	9. Light it Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft's POV as he takes care of the mess his brother made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone,
> 
> So sorry for not updating last week. Just got a new dog and that little guy takes up a lot of time. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter :)

Chapter 9 – Light it Up

Mycroft stood at the bottom of the stairs with Greg and two other expertly trained hunters. The stench of sex and vampire wafted through the flat, relaying exactly what had happened to his baby brother. Greg had already told him much, though Mycroft would be sure to reprimand the hunter for withholding the information for an entire week.

For what he gathered, Sherlock had captured John Watson and held him captive to preform experiments. Sadly, this did not surprise the League member. He knew knowledge came first with his wayward brother, and it turns out it would come to bite him in the arse. It appeared John had broken loose, or even worse, Sherlock let him lose, and the vampire attacked him.

Now, Mycroft had a whole world of paper work and holes to cover up after his brother’s little stunt. Honestly, he didn’t know where he went wrong with Sherlock. The boy was always willful and curious, but he thought if he made him into a hunter it would curb his need for experimenting. _It appears I was wrong._

Mycroft had given his last warning to the vampire upstairs, and God help him if he had sucked Sherlock dry. Eternal life would be the vampire’s worst enemy if he killed Mycroft’s only family. But if his hunch was correct, Sherlock would be upstairs drugged out of his mind while John, the vampire who didn’t kill his victims, was sleeping with a full belly.

“We’re coming up. This is your last chance,” Mycroft said, motioning for his men to follow. As they slowly walked up the stairs, Greg prepared his net gun, while the others had their crossbows ready to fire on Mycroft’s signal. Mycroft could hear a slight growling coming from inside the room. He turned the door knob and opened the door to find Sherlock passed out on the bed, naked with drying blood all over him.

Mycroft scanned the room using all his senses, readying his can of repellant, another one of Sherlock’s many inventions and contributions to the League. Sherlock was the most brilliant person Mycroft had ever met, but the boy was a junkie at heart. He was still his brother though, and Mycroft would do whatever he had to keep him safe.

A slight growl emanated from the right corner of the room. Mycroft turned his focus there and saw a pale threatening figure standing in the shadows. “Leave,” the figure said.

“John Watson?” without waiting for an answer, Mycroft stepped into the room, his men following behind. “Get down on your knees.”

“He’s changing. He needs to stay here, with me,” John breathed, his voice seemed a little less human with almost two tones.

Mycroft’s eyes grew wide and his anger boiled over at the thought of his baby brother being turned by some heathen. John Watson was supposed to be an easy take down, hell, the vampire didn’t even kill his meals. But no, his stupid brother had to go and get a pet vampire. Now, if what the vampire said was true, Sherlock would become what Mycroft had created an entire organization to kill.

“Alright, vampire, I will tell you one more time. Get down on your knees!”

“My…croft,” Sherlock whispered from the bed. His voice sounded pained, making something inside the elder Holmes break. Mycroft looked over for a split second, then was met by a whooshing wind. John stood in front of him now, his blue eyes tired, but hyperaware.

“I said leave!” he growled, gripping a hold of Mycroft’s shirt and shaking him slightly.

Out of instinct, Mycroft held the can in front of John’s face and pressed down, spraying the toxic liquid into the vampire’s eyes. The reaction was instantaneous. John hissed and covered his eyes, turning around and falling to the floor with a loud thud. He continued to growl and writhe on the floor, rubbing his eyes, as Greg stepped in front of Mycroft and shot the unbreakable net over the vampire.

“Let me go!” John hissed, struggling against the net as hard as he could.

“Take him to sector C, I want to talk to him once we get Sherlock stabilized.” Mycroft pointed to the two other men, who rushed to sedate John.

“No! Don’t take me away from him! Please! It’ll kill him!” John’s screams died down as the drugs worked their way into his system. Mycroft narrowed his eyes at the beast, considering his words carefully. There was little known about the shift, and Mycroft wasn’t taking any chances when it came to his brother.

“Put him in the hospital wing, the containment chamber. I want him in the same building as Sherlock until we know what’s really going on.”

John gave a weak hiss towards the two men who picked him up and carried him out of the room. Mycroft watched them leave, then turned his attention back to Sherlock. The young man was trying to crawl off his bed, towards the exit. Mycroft rolled his eyes and motioned for Greg to help him find some clothes to cover up the naked man.

Slipping a pair of pants and sleep trousers over Sherlock’s hips, Mycroft noticed the bruises forming all over his brother’s body. His hips, his chest, neck, and back all had bruises from either fingers or love bites. “Bloody hell,” Greg whispered, running his finger over the finger shaped bruises on Sherlock’s pale hip bone.

“Greg!” Sherlock shouted, jovial in his euphoric state. It seemed that his brother was high on something, but there were no track marks on his arms or toes. _John must have given him something._

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here mate,” Greg said, looking at Mycroft then rolling his eyes.

Sherlock reached up and grabbed the hunter’s collar, pulling him down so his ear was closer. “I just had the most mind blowing sex ever,” he said, a wide smile on his face.

Greg couldn’t stifle the laugh as he helped his friend to stand. “Do shut up, Sherlock,” Mycroft said, getting his brother’s arm over his shoulder to support the man’s wobbly knees.

“I came so hard!” the man shouted, his head rolling to one side. “But now…now I don’t feel so well,” Sherlock said, groaning and putting more weight on his two supports.

“Do you think he was lying?” Greg asked, getting into the car and pulling Sherlock in after him. Mycroft followed, putting his arm around his brother’s naked shoulders.

“I’m afraid John’s words held no deceit. How he did it, I’m still not sure of though.”

“Are you going to tell the council?”

“Arseholes,” Sherlock mumbled under his breath. He held his stomach with both hands, grunting and growling every time the car jostled.

“No, I’m afraid that would be quite fatal. A vampire is a vampire, family or not.” Mycroft rubbed his hand over his face. _What am I supposed to do now?_

“I’ll keep them off your back as long as I can, then,” Greg said, looking at Sherlock with pity in his eyes. “I swear I didn’t think something like this was going to happen. He had him restrained with those chains you gave him and I would never imagine he would let John loose. I’m…I’m so sorry, Mycroft.”

“Of course it’s not your fault, Gregory,” Mycroft sighed. “My brother has been this way for a very long time. I’m afraid even if you would have told me sooner, the results would have been the same. I will take care of this. He is still my brother.” _Yes he is. But John, is not._

When the car finally stopped, Sherlock was as pale as a sheet and his pupils had blown wide. “Mycroft,” he whined, huddling over. The eldest Holmes sighed and wrapped his arm around his brother, working him out of the car slowly.

“You’re going to be alright, Sherlock,” Mycroft told him, though he had no idea if his words were truthful. “Gregory, will you stay with John while I tend to Sherlock?” He trusted very few people, a number he could count using half a hand really, but Gregory was one of them, even if he did withhold information about Sherlock’s shenanigans.

“Of course,” the hunter nodded, stepping out and heading towards the car that held John. The man opened the door and pulled out a large blanket to cover John with.

“John,” Sherlock moaned, reaching towards the other car.

“Come along, Sherlock. We need to get you checked out.” Mycroft practically carried his brother into the hospital unit. With his ranking, Mycroft was able to get a private room and request a doctor who he knew would be discrete about his findings.

When Sherlock was secure in a hospital bed and having his blood drawn, Mycroft was able to take a calming breath. He truly didn’t know what to do. Of course he would do whatever was necessary to keep his brother safe, but what was the best option eluded the elder Holmes. He carded a hand through Sherlock’s hair, surprised when the young man’s eyes snapped opened and glared at him.

“John!” he groaned loudly, pain evident in his voice. Sherlock gripped his chest and started shaking. “Please, I need John,” he cried.

“You’re alright, Sherlock. You’re alright,” Mycroft assured him, though he knew his brother was anything by alright. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

“John,” he whined again, gripping Mycroft’s sleeve. “I think…I think I’m changing. Please…please, My, I need John.” Sherlock’s voice was pleading, a tone Mycroft had never heard before.

“Alright, Sherlock, alright. Just relax for me. These doctors are going to take care of you while I step out, okay?”

“No, don’t leave me! Ahh!” Sherlock’s body straightened out, then arched off the bed as his muscles tensed.

Mycroft didn’t want to leave his brother, but he had to find out what John did to him and what was to be expected if his suspicions were correct. “I’m going to find John for you, Sherlock. Just hold on for me.” With that, Mycroft left the room and sprinted down the hallway to the containment room.

The room was completely white, with a white bed in the center. John was strapped down by all four limbs, and lay calmly, looking at Greg standing in the corner. “What did you do to my brother?” Mycroft asked, walking over to loom above the vampire.

“Is Sherlock alright?” John asked, lifting his head up. If Mycroft wasn’t mistaken, he though he heard true worry in John’s voice.

“No. No, he is not. Now tell me, what did you do to him?”

“I…” John looked down and away from Mycroft, apparently ashamed of his actions. “I let him drink my blood. He’s…He’s changing into one of me. I’m sorry, Mycroft, I truly am.”

“You’re sorry?! What, he drank from you on accident?” Mycroft said, taking a step forward and clenching his fist together. He wanted to strangle the life out of this vampire right now, but he knew he would have to be calm if he was to find out more of Sherlock’s…condition.

“No, no he didn’t. I fed it to him, but I wasn’t myself. I was in a frenzy and I couldn’t stop it from happening.” Although John showed true remorse, Mycroft could never forgive the vampire for what he’d done. “Now, please, you have to listen to me. Sherlock cannot be separated from his sire for five years after his change. He won’t be able to eat and will soon fade away if I’m not with him.”

“You lie, vampire,” Mycroft narrowed his eyes.

“Please, I’m not lying. I’m sure you’ve seen how much pain Sherlock is in right now without me. It will only get worse if you don’t let me see him.”

“You will never see him again,” Mycroft growled, his anger trumping common sense.

In a flash, John broke through his wrist restraints and grabbed ahold of Mycroft’s lapels. The vampire hissed, and for a moment, Mycroft thought John would latch on to his neck. Instead, John let go, looking shocked at his own actions.

“I…I’m sorry, I’ve never sired another vampire before and this feeling of possessiveness is getting the better of me.” John patted down Mycroft’s shirt, even as the man backed away. “Just let me see Sherlock for a moment and you’ll see how my presence affects him. Don’t let you hatred for me jeopardize your brother’s life.     

“Do not tell me my business, vampire,” Mycroft said, angry that he let John frazzle him.

“Mycroft,” Greg said, walking over to put a hand on Mycroft’s shoulder. “Sherlock’s in pretty bad shape. Maybe we should just let John see him for a tick. We don’t know shit about a newly shifted vampire, and we might need his help.”

Mycroft sighed a jagged breath. He knew it was the logical thing to do, but the thought of that vampire getting near his little brother again just didn’t set right with him. In the end though, Sherlock’s cries of pain and his pleas won out, and Mycroft un-velcroed John’s ankles. “You will do exactly as I say vampire, or this,” he pointed to the crossbow in Greg’s hand, “is going to take you down.”

“Understood. Now, please, we need to hurry. Once the shift happens, he’ll be a danger to everyone.”

Mycroft and Greg stood behind John as they jogged down the hallway. “Oh no,” John said as they turned into Sherlock’s room. Peering inside the room, Mycroft saw a female nurse unconscious on the floor, and most worrisome of all, Sherlock’s bed was empty.      

             


	10. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's POV. Sherlock's a new vampire. John, Mycroft, and Greg have to find out how to contain the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> I am deeply sorry for the delay in this chapter. RL has reared its ugly head and for some reason, I just wasn't feeling motivated. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and I'm going to try my darnedest to get a chapter out every week until the end. Unbeta'ed, so please forgive the mistakes. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 10 – Waking Up

Sherlock’s eyes hurt, his head hurt, hell, his entire body felt like had been placed in a freezer for a month. Something was happening to him, something unnatural. The gurney below him was soaked with sweat and creaked ever so often when Sherlock would twitch from the pain in his abdomen.

He groaned quietly as the nurse placed an oxygen mask over his face. “John…John,” he breathed, his voice muffled by the plastic. He needed John, why, well that he didn’t know, but he needed him more than life itself. The marrow in his bones, the pores in his skin ached for John’s touch. _And why am I so damn thirsty?!_

As he lay there, the minutes seemed to tick by like molasses and he could feel his eyes begin to close, his body shutting down. He wasn’t scared though. John’s face could be seen every time he closed his eyelids, as if the vampire was calling him into a deep sleep. Each breath grew shorter and more shallow until finally, Sherlock’s eyes closed and his heart stilled.

“Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes, don’t do this!” He heard a woman yell, but it was of no consequence. Sherlock was dead.

When his eyes opened again, Sherlock could see everything and then some. As he breathed in, a smell so delicious it made his mouth begin to water hit his nose. He sighed loudly, examining the room to find a nurse facing away from him as she filled out paper work. There were red glowing lines running all throughout her body, indicating where Sherlock was supposed to bite for the maximum amount of blood.

He let out a low predatory growl, his skin tingling with excitement. Something inside, a voice maybe, urging him to rip, bite, feast upon the young girl. Finally giving in to the chanting in his head, Sherlock leapt out of the bed, but instead of grabbing hold of the nurse, his legs gave out and he fell straight to the floor. An inhuman growl left his throat as he tried to right himself.

The woman screamed when she saw Sherlock’s teeth had dropped and his eyes had turned black. She ran out of the room, knocking another tray over as she went. “John,” Sherlock gasped, clutching at his heart that no longer beat. He needed to find John, but first, he needed to eat before he collapsed.

Stumbling, Sherlock fell out of the room and started heading down the hallway. He could smell everything, the antiseptic, the disease, and most of all, the blood. His fangs actually ached with so much blood near by.

He sniffed deeply, then turned his attention to the door on his left. His senses told him there was one man in there alone, ready for the taking. As silently as he could, which surprisingly, was quite discreet, he opened the door and stepped inside. A wave of animalistic urges washed over him. He could feel his toes curl in excitement and his legs bend to adopt an aggressive stance.

“Huh?” the man said, turning around to face Sherlock. Before the man could even scream, Sherlock was on him. It wasn’t graceful or clean, but when Sherlock finally latched on to the man’s neck, he felt unimaginable warmth flood his body. It was of someone finally turned on a radiator after a month in the freezing snow. It filled Sherlock up and there was no way he was going to stop. Until…

“Sherlock!” Mycroft shouted as he and John burst through the door. Sherlock hissed at the human, then continued draining the nurse dry. John closed the door and took a deep breath, staring at the vampire he created.

“Sherlock, you need to let him go,” John said, taking a step closer to the feeding vampire. Sherlock merely stretched out a pleading hand for John to join him, but he kept his teeth in the human and his eyes on Mycroft. “No, Sherlock,” John said a little firmer, “you need to let go.”

Sherlock removed his teeth, looking questioningly up at his sire. At first, he was confused, but soon he realized the human standing next to John, his own brother, was the problem here. Mycroft must have threatened John in some way to get Sherlock to stop. Well Sherlock could make him stop!

Dropping the body to the floor, even as blood continued to pump out of the nurse’s neck, Sherlock rose slowly. He could smell his brother, the sweet blood that flowed like melted chocolate through his veins. Sherlock licked his lips and then dove for the human. His fingers just grazed Mycroft’s lapels before two large hands hit his shoulders.

John grabbed him by his bony shoulders and pushed him back, his feet sliding against the cool tile. Sherlock grunted and growled, noting his superior strength was no match for his sire’s. “Sherlock, try to calm down. Focus on me, just me.”

“J-John,” Sherlock breathed, immediately pressing his nose against John’s neck. It smelled like home. Everything was alright now, his sire was there to take care of him. “John, I’m so…thirsty…please,” he whined. He had just gorged himself, but it was as if the blood had just disappeared right after it touched his tongue, providing no relief for his raging hunger.

“I know you are, Sherlock, I know. I’m so, so sorry I did this to you,” John said, digging his hand into Sherlock’s curls and rubbing his scalp slowly. The older vampire turned to Mycroft as he distracted Sherlock from the human in the room. “I need as many bags of blood as you can get. If we are going to take him out of the city, we’ll need to distract him. Plus, he needs the sustenance now that I’m here and his body can fully process the blood.”

Mycroft poked his head out the door and spoke to an unseen human. Sherlock growled and reached for his brother’s suit jacket. John held on to him though, never letting the young vampire out of his grip. Sherlock was fine with that, sure he was hungry and had no doubt his brother would taste delicious, but his sire forbid it.

“My God,” Mycroft whispered to himself, as he gazed at the dilated pupils with only a thin ring of silver bordering the blackness.   

“It will take a few months for the initial hunger and instincts to die down, but even then it is always a battle to control one’s hunger,” John said, stroking down Sherlock’s back as the young vampire clung to him.

Sherlock felt safe there. If he couldn’t have blood right now, at least he could stand there and inhale the sweet pear scent of John. For what seemed like hours, Sherlock stared hungrily at Mycroft while he held on to John, until finally, a knock at the door broke the silence.

Mycroft opened the door to let Greg inside, then closed it. Greg had a large Styrofoam box in his hand and a grim look on his face. As soon as the man stepped into the room, Sherlock smelled the blood inside the box and began to growl. There was so much, so, so, much and it was all right there for him and his sire.

“Sherlock, stop,” John said sternly, grabbing Sherlock’s chin and forcing his black eyes to look at John’s dark blue ones. Sherlock bared his fangs, trying to appear threatening, but John just glared back at him and tightened his hold on the young vampire’s chin. Finally, he relented, frustrated, but something deep inside him made him want to obey John.

“Is the car ready?” John asked.

“Yes, we can exit through the west wing discreetly,” Mycroft said, peering into the box Greg was holding in his hands. He grimaced, but thanked the man just the same.

“Come on, Sherlock, we’re going to put you under this sheet for a bit. You’ll be fine. I’m right here with you, yeah,” John said, putting a white sheet over Sherlock. He could barely see the shadows of figures as the cloth was over his eyes, but he could feel the presence of two humans and one vampire, his sire. John put his arms around the tall vampire and led him out of the room and down a hallway.

It was strange, but the hospital seemed empty. They didn’t pass anyone as they walked down hallway after hallway. It didn’t make sense until Mycroft spoke up. “Good Job, Gregory.”

“We’ll get him to the cabin safely, Mycroft. Don’t you worry,” the hunter said. Sherlock took a large whiff of the man, smelling fresh wood and cherries. His instincts told him to take, bite, drink, so he reached out his hand only for it to be caught by John. Sherlock let out a whine, but dropped his hand.

“Get in,” Mycroft said, and suddenly, Sherlock felt like he was in an oven set on high. He squirmed against the hands that were pushing him, as his skin heated to a painful boil. Thankfully, he was shoved into a darker area and a cool breeze, _air conditioner,_ his mind provided.

“You’re alright, you’re alright. We’re out of the sun,” John said, pulling off their sheets and settling Sherlock by his side. It was a large car with wide seats facing each other, and tinted windows. Mycroft and Greg sat on one side, while Sherlock and John sat huddled on the other. “Greg,” John demanded, holding out his hand.

The hunter didn’t hesitate. He grabbed a bag of blood out of the box and tossed it to John. “Here you go,” John practically cooed to him, which oddly enough made him feel better. Sherlock’s hands shot out like a cobra and grabbed the bag. Within seconds, he had his teeth latched onto the plastic and was draining the contents.

It tasted nowhere near as good as the stuff that came right out of a human body. The blood, which was usually rich with flavor, seemed bland and watered down. But, it did the job, and Sherlock felt the pain left on his skin from the sunlight disappear. Sherlock sighed and curled up next to John’s thigh, a drip of blood still clinging to his lips.

The sound of two heart beats and the thumping of the tires on the road were soothing enough for Sherlock to close his eyes. “It’s okay, Sherlock. You’re going to be okay,” John said quietly, running a hand through Sherlock’s hair. His body felt so tired now. Sherlock finally drifted off to sleep, knowing his sire was there to take care of him.     


	11. Someone to Save You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's POV. John and Sherlock get settled into a far away cottage and the training begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! 
> 
> I hope you're having a wonderful holiday season, whether you celebrate a belief or not. I'm traveling next week so I'm not sure if I will be able to get you another chapter this coming Sunday. However, I do have a five hour layover in Atlanta, so that might give me the time I need to write. Yea! Anyways, have a wonder holiday and new year. Don't do anything I wouldn't do :)  
> Not beta'd. Not britpicked. Sorry for any mistakes.

Chapter 11 – Someone to Save You

“We’re almost there,” Lestrade said, keeping his eyes on John. It was understandable, of course; after all, John had just turned his best friend into a vampire.

“And what do you propose we do when we get to your little cabin,” John asked, running his hand through a sleeping Sherlock’s hair. It wasn’t going to be easy, that was for sure. But John was confident that he could train Sherlock to control his hunger to a point where he didn’t need to kill his victims to feed. They would need blood though, lots and lots of blood to sustain Sherlock’s newly changed body, and John needed to eat too unless they wanted another incident like Baker Street.

“I will have blood sent once a week. There is a refrigerator that will keep the stock fresh,” Mycroft said, his eyes flickering from his brother to his mobile. John could tell the man was worried for his little brother, but was trying his best not to let it show. It made the old vampire smile. It had been a long time since someone had cared about him like Mycroft did for Sherlock. They might not show it on the surface, but John could smell it on them; a particularly delicate smell of jasmine and tea.

“That will work for a while,” John said, “but I can’t teach Sherlock how to not kill his prey with bags of blood. I can take him out hunting –”

“No,” Mycroft and Lestrade snapped.

“If my brother is spotted by any trackers or hunters, I will not be able to keep him off the League’s list.”

“Alright, then what do you propose?” John asked. The thought had occurred to him that Greg and Mycroft could help, but that was something one must volunteer for, not be nominated.

Without hesitation, Greg spoke up. “I can help,” he said, his voice confident and unwavering. John smiled, but inside he knew the risks of what the hunter was proposing. If he couldn’t control Sherlock, if the young vampire went into a frenzy, John wouldn’t be able to stop him.

“Gregory, I can’t ask you to do that,” Mycroft said, his brow furrowed in concern.

“You don’t have to ask me. This is partly my fault,” Greg said. “I should have told you what Sherlock was doing from the beginning. And if I can help him become better than some animal who runs on instinct, I’m going to do it.”

Mycroft stared at the man for a moment, something passing between them, then nodded. “I will help as well. He is my brother, after all.”

“Alright,” John said, “I don’t know how long it’s going to take or even if Sherlock’s capable of this kind of control. From what I’ve seen he is the obsessive type, which isn’t prime for this kind of situation.”

Both humans didn’t object, only rubbed their hands through their hair and sighed at the truth. If Sherlock was turned by any other vampire, John knew, he would have killed at least a dozen people by now, and most likely be on the Leagues hit list. That wasn’t going to happen to Sherlock though, he was misguided, yes, but he had a good heart that just needed proper guidance. John would take care of him until his dying breath.

“You will teach my brother to control this, vampire,” Mycroft threatened. But what Mycroft didn’t understand was that John was 234 years old and had been threatened more times than he could count with hundreds of different types of torture. John just blinked and tilted his head down in a bow. There was no use in arguing and it would most likely wake Sherlock.

“I will take care of Sherlock. I’m his sire now and whether you like it or I like it, he is my responsibility and I take that very seriously.” When both humans remained silent, John continued. “Give me three days with just the blood bags and then one, and only one, of you come to the cabin. I can’t protect both of you if things go sour.”

“Very well,” Mycroft nodded, just as they pulled up to a rather large stone built cottage. John was expecting some wooden cabin that barely had running water. But this, this was just amazing. “The League will know nothing of this. They will simply think Sherlock ran off to live a life on his own.”

“This will work,” Greg said, trying to convince himself.

“It has to,” John said, rousing Sherlock by shaking his shoulder slightly. The young vampire rose slowly from sleep, his body using all its energy to strengthen his new body and learn to convert blood into a life source. “We’re going to have to put the sheet on one more time, Sherlock. I’ll be with you the whole time, you don’t have to worry.”

“John,” he rasped out, his throat no doubt sore from drinking blood instead of water. It would take time for his body to be able to fully function off of blood, making a painful transition for the vampire.

“I’m here, Sherlock,” he said, placing the sheet over Sherlock and then one over himself. When Mycroft opened the door, John stepped out, feeling the heat immediately. It was late into the afternoon, but the sun still shone brightly enough to cause discomfort, even under a blanket.

“Ahh,” he heard Sherlock gasp, but John wrapped his hand around the vampire’s sleeve and tugged him towards the cottage.

Finally, after what seemed like forever of walking on the sun, Mycroft unlocked the door and ushered everyone in. “Hold on, hold on,” Mycroft said, “don’t take your sheets off just yet. Greg and I are going to block the windows.”

“John,” Sherlock whined, his voice vulnerable. Because he was; Sherlock was basically being reborn into a new body that functioned completely different then his human one. His sight was different, smell, taste, hearing, touch, everything, was new and scary. Then, to add on the undying urge for blood; well, it was no wonder Sherlock’s hand was shaking while he clung tightly to John.

“I’m here, Sherlock,” John said, pulling the vampire closer and keeping a steady hand on his hip.

“Done,” Greg said, with a final whoosh of drapes being thrown.

John dropped the sheet, letting it fall to the floor, then helped Sherlock with his. As soon as the young vampire was visible and his nose caught whiff of the two humans, who just so happened to have blood flowing through them, he growled. John not only saw, but sensed Sherlock’s teeth drop and his eyes darken.

Sherlock made a run for Greg, who had just finished hanging a sheet over the window in the kitchen. “Sherlock, stop!” John shouted after him, but knew that wouldn’t stop the hungry newborn. Using his superior speed, John ran towards Sherlock and tackled him to the ground. The vampire hissed and struggled against his sire, but John merely straddled his hips and held the clawing hands to the floor.

“You need to leave. You’re only making things worse right now,” John told the two men who stood in awe of the animalistic behavior from their friend. “Go!” John shouted when they didn’t head for the door.

“Sherlock,” Mycroft whispered, fear and pain clear in his voice.

“Come on, we’ll see him in a couple of days,” Greg said, putting a sympathetic hand on Mycroft’s shoulder and turning him towards the exit. “John will take care of him.”

Sherlock roared loudly as he saw his food source getting away, looking up at John with pleading eyes. John was supposed to be his food provider, his caregiver, but Sherlock couldn’t see that John was doing his job, just not the way he wanted him to. “It’s okay, Sherlock, it’s okay,” he kept repeating to himself and the frantic vampire below him.

When John heard the car pull away, he let Sherlock’s hands go, but he kept his full weight on him, forbidding the young vampire to rise. He slowly put his hands on Sherlock’s cheeks to hold his face still while John looked into black eyes that were slowly fading back into a light silvery blue. Leaning down and keeping constant eye contact, John let his lips touch Sherlock’s. It was brief, but as John pulled away, he let his tongue flick Sherlock’s bottom lip.

The intimate contact seemed to calm the vampire some, his fangs retracting and his muscles loosening. “You’re alright, Sherlock,” John said, his voice an octave lower than normal.

“John…I’m so…hungry,” he whispered, letting his head fall hard on the wood floor.

“I know, love. Let’s get you a bag.” John caressed Sherlock’s cheek once, giving the young vampire more physical contact with his sire, then stood up. Greg had brought in the box of blood and thankfully had put it in the fridge. John pulled out a pack and sat down on the couch, beckoning Sherlock to join him. “I know we eat blood to survive, but you need to learn to control that hunger.”

Sherlock sat down next to him, reaching out for the bag with lightning speed. John pulled it away and hissed at Sherlock, making the younger vampire retract his hands and lean away. Being a stern and tough teacher was not John’s first choice, but he knew Sherlock would need a firm, unrelenting hand if he was ever going to be able to control himself around humans.

“We’re going to drink this one slow, okay,” John said, dropping his fangs and puncturing two holes at the top of the bag. He brought it up to Sherlock’s mouth, wincing when the newborn grabbed his wrists, holding on as if John was going to take it away from him. Sherlock began sucking rapidly, his body demanding the liquid to be taken.

When the bag was half gone, John pulled it away, much to Sherlock’s dismay. “Give it back!” Sherlock demanded, but knew better than to attack his sire. At that moment, John knew why vampires got stronger with age. If the young ones were as powerful as John, they would be unstoppable in their quest for blood.

“No,” John said simply, looking into dark crazy eyes and feeling a twinge of guilt settle in his gut. He made Sherlock like this. Sure, he could blame it on the fact that Sherlock tied him down until John went into a frenzy, but still, it was John and John alone who turned Sherlock into this crazed animal. “You need to pace yourself while drinking. It will help your body process the blood better, and it will teach you control.”

“But I need it!” Sherlock growled, lunging halfheartedly at the bag. John pulled it out of reach; just barely, as Sherlock had freakishly long arms and height did not grace John’s body.

“I know you do, Sherlock. I understand, but you have to trust me on this. I will give you the blood; you just need to calm down for a second, okay?” John reached out and touched the sweaty curls plastered to the vampire’s forehead.

Sherlock glared at him for a moment, like a child testing what they could get away with. Then, he visibly sagged in his seat with a petulant huff. John couldn’t help but smile. His new vampire was exactly the same as the human he once was; bratty, adorable, and brilliant. “Alright,” John said, holding the bag back up to Sherlock’s lips. “Finish it up.”

Sherlock latched onto the bag, squeezing his eyes together as he sucked the red fluid into his mouth. When the last drop was gone, Sherlock sighed and slumped back on the couch. “More?” he asked John hopefully.

The old vampire chuckled and shook his head. “In a couple of hours we’ll do it again, but next time we’re going to stop several times.”

Sherlock gave John an angry glare, but decided it would be best to huddle up on his sire’s lap, pressing his face into John’s side. “And if you’re good,” John whispered, running his hand gently along Sherlock’s ear, “I’ll help distract you in between feedings. How does that sound?”

To John’s surprise, Sherlock actually purred against his side, digging his body deeper into the old vampire. “I’ll take that as a yes,” John said, genuinely laughing for the first time in a very, very long time. No matter how selfish it sounded, John knew he wouldn’t be lonely for at least five years because of what he did to Sherlock. It had been at least one hundred years since he’d had another immortal to share his life with, and hopefully, Sherlock would stay with him for the rest of their eternal lives.           


	12. Life in Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Been a bit behind while trying to catch up after the holidays, but everything seems to be smoothing out. This story has taken a turn I didn't expect (that kinda happens with all my stories, so no surprise here) so I have no idea how long it's going to be or if I'm going to add in more characters like Moriarty or Adler. I don't know, but I hope you guys are enjoying the ride, and I will try to be more steady with the updates. Thanks for your patience!
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's POV. Greg comes to visit. It doesn't go well.

 Chapter 12 – Life in Color

Not for the first time and not for the last, Sherlock woke up hungry enough to drain an entire elephant. If animal blood would satisfy his hunger, he would have, but the first time Sherlock almost jumped out the window to chase a deer, John had told him its blood possessed no nourishing qualities for vampires – though John did enjoy his venison on the rare side.

It had been two days since he was forced to live in this little cottage, and two days of drinking out of cold blood bags. They were okay, and the blow jobs he would receive from John in between his feeds were always amazing, but the blood was never enough to satisfy that new hunger, that itch that always pricked at the back of his throat and made his teeth actually ache.

John, who sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea and an old copy of ‘Oliver Twist,’ was attempting to condition Sherlock like a dog. And Sherlock, who might be a blood sucking vampire, was not a mindless dog. Every meal time John would bring out a bag of blood and let Sherlock drink half. Usually, Sherlock would hand it back, but sometimes the young vampire would try to drink it all before John could grab it away from him. John would hiss and Sherlock would relent, feeling an odd twinge on his neck where his sire had bitten him.

When the young vampire was good and handed over the bag without a fuss, John would reward him by pulling down Sherlock’s trousers and slowly sucking on his cock until he came with a cry, arching his back and spurting into his sire’s mouth. Then, John would feed him the rest of the bag after he’d come down from his orgasm. If Sherlock was bad and tried to be greedy with his blood, John would simply plant a gentle kiss on his cheek and walk off with the blood. Sherlock wouldn’t get to feed for another hour as punishment.

Patience and control equals pleasure. Sherlock could play along, play by the vampire who played doctor and tried to blend in with the humans rules. He had always wondered what it would be like to become like the animals that he killed. Now that he was one, Sherlock realized what vampires truly were; the apex predator. He could see things now, hear things, that showed him exactly how he needed to strike in order to conquer his prey.

John was the same way of course, but he refused to use their gifts. Sherlock knew he could feast on humans and avoid, or even take down, The League. It would be hard, especially with his sire mother henning and the two humans who brought him here keeping tabs on him. The only problem was, John was stronger than him, much stronger. Sherlock was half way out the window for that deer and John had grabbed his ankle with one hand and flung him back in the room. Sherlock hated it. He was supposed to be the one in control, not John.  

“Are you ready to eat, love?” John called from the kitchen, bringing Sherlock out of his musing. The young vampire was sitting on the couch with his knees pulled up to his chest as John brought in a bag of blood. “You’re doing really well, Sherlock. I’m so proud of you,” he praised, sitting down next to the tall vampire.

“I’m tired of this cold stuff,” Sherlock huffed, letting his childish nature get the better of him. He let his canines drop and pierced the bag, sucking in the cold but sustaining liquid. He was less tired now as his body was slowly learning how to digest the blood and use it efficiently to keep him strong.

“I know,” John said, playing with the curls on Sherlock’s forehead. “That’s why Greg is coming today.”

“What?!” Sherlock asked around the bag, shocked and gleeful at the idea of a human with warm blood and weak muscles coming into their territory.

“Yep,” John said, a smile on his face.

Sherlock took a few more sips of the blood, then easily handed it over to John. “I get to drink from him?”

“Let’s just see how you react when he first gets here, and then we can determine how far we’re going to take your first meeting with a human. Now,” John gave a cheeky grin, “you were an awfully good boy just now.”

He undid Sherlock’s trousers and dipped his hand below his pants to pull out a half hard cock. Sherlock shivered even when his brain told him how ridiculous it was that his body was automatically responding to the fact that he only drank half of the blood. He growled slightly, but John took it as a good thing and let his lips engulf Sherlock’s cock while his hand traveled up to rub up and down his pale torso.

Sherlock bucked his hips up into John, who took almost the entire length into his slightly cool mouth. The old vampire worked his neck and bobbed up and down as he flicked his tongue and rolled Sherlock’s bollocks in his hands. Blood was the farthest thing from Sherlock’s mind as warmth spread throughout his body and he came into John’s mouth. He stilled when John pushed himself all the way down onto Sherlock’s cock and swallowed every last drop of his come.

“Good boy,” John said again, wiping his lips and putting Sherlock back in his pants. “Now finish up your meal before Greg gets here.”

Sherlock did as he was told, again, something in his mind compelling him to follow John’s orders even though the young vampire wanted to resist. The cold blood felt terrible going down, as it always did, but he could feel his body responding, growing stronger.

It took two more hours of hunger and boredom for Greg to show up. “Stay on the couch,” John told him, as he walked to the door. At the angle Sherlock was sitting, he couldn’t see behind the opened door. Bright light shown through, forcing John to move to the side of the opening to allow the man entrance.

“John, Sherlock,” he greeted after closing the door.

Immediately, Sherlock’s nose filled with the scent of fresh meat. Blood that smelled like burning cedar and cherries filled the room, and Sherlock could see the bright red lines flowing through Greg’s body, telling him where to strike. The neck would be good, but his thigh was even better! The warm blood would flood Sherlock’s mouth and he would be sure not to spill a drop until the man lay dead on the floor.

“No!” a voice shouted at him, as it felt like a train crashed into his stomach.

When the young vampire finally came back to reality, he was being held around the waist by John and Greg was pressed back against the door like he’d just seen a ghost. Sherlock was breathing hard and he could feel that his fangs had dropped. _I don’t…I don’t even remember attacking him._

“Calm down,” John whispered to him, “calm down, Sherlock.” John wasn’t even panting as he held onto the wild vampire. “It’s Greg, it’s just Greg, alright. He’s going to let you drink from him, but you just need to calm down. You’re going to get blood, I promise.”

“You smell…so…good,” Sherlock growled, lunging once more. His limbs seemed to lose all control as they tried to get away from his sire and sink his teeth into Greg. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Sherlock had more control than this. He was supposed to lure Greg in, let his prey think he was safe just before he attacked. But right now, Sherlock was acting like a feral animal.

“Greg,” John said, working his arms around Sherlock so he had the young vampire’s arms pinned to his sides. “Come closer. Let him smell you,” he said, easily restraining Sherlock.

“Are-Are you sure?” the man asked, actual fear in his voice, but he took a step closer to the straining vampire.

“I’ve got him. I’ll tell you when to stop, just come here.”

Greg slowly walked closer, the smell becoming stronger and exciting Sherlock even more. The vampire hissed and strained his neck towards the human.

“Okay, that’s good right there,” John said, when Sherlock’s teeth were mere centimeters from Greg’s neck. “Sherlock,” John said, keeping one arms wrapped around his vampire and using the other to tilt his head back. “Let his scent fill you, but don’t let it control you. You are in control here, not the blood, not the scents, you.”

Sherlock, with what little movement John allowed him, stuck his nose close to Greg’s throat and inhaled. The smell was so intoxicating Sherlock just wanted to sit in a sauna with the odor floating around with the steam. “Want!” he growled, and tried to lung. _Damn it, this is not how this is supposed to go! Get a hold of yourself!_

“I know, Sherlock, I know,” John sighed, disappointment clear in his voice. “Just try to concentrate. Control your urges.”

It took thirty minutes for Sherlock to finally retract his teeth and stop struggling against John’s hold. Greg looked exhausted and terrified, but finally relieved that he didn’t have a vampire lunging at his neck with the only thing protecting him being another vampire. John sighed, but still held on to his vampire.

Sherlock could still smell the blood, the cherry scent, and he still had his hunger. Now though, he realized what he needed to do to get that blood, let that scent wash over him, sate that hunger. John wanted him to be a good boy, to wait. Sherlock could do that. Yes, he’d had a moment of weakness, but now he was sure he could control it to get what he wanted and outsmart John.

Finally, Sherlock sagged in John’s arms, appearing to have given up his attack.

“Good. Good boy, Sherlock,” John said, loosening his grip on the young vampire just a touch. Sherlock tried not to smile as his plan was working out just how he wanted. John was letting his guard down. “Okay, now for part two. Greg, I want him to either drink from your calf or forearm, which would you prefer?”

“Umm,” Greg said, wide eyed as he pulled his throat away from Sherlock. “I guess calf. It’ll be easier to hide.”

“Great, okay, go ahead and take off your trousers and lie down on the couch,” John said, motioning towards the beat up old sofa.

“My-My trousers?”

“Oh don’t tell me your modest, hunter,” John chuckled slightly, but kept a calming hand rubbing on Sherlock’s stomach. “Sherlock needs to be able to access your leg and I would prefer he didn’t do it through your clothes. Now, please, before he decides ripping your head off is the best way to go about getting your blood.”

At that, Greg nodded, took his trousers off, and sat on the couch with one leg propped up. Sherlock could smell the fear coming off of the human. The stench set off something inside him, triggering a reflex that made him want to chase down his prey and hold it in his mouth until it died. He couldn’t stop the small growl that came from his throat.

“Calm down, love,” John said, “just take some deep breaths and own your hunger.”

_Own my hunger?! If I were owning my hunger I’d have that hunter’s throat locked between my jaw._ “I’m…okay,” Sherlock got out in a somewhat calm voice.

“Good, let’s go sit over by Greg, then.” John kept both hands on Sherlock the whole time as they made their way over to the couch. When Sherlock was sitting right next to the human, he thought he was going to lose it. The pull to drink from the bright red lines flowing through the man’s body was so strong; Sherlock didn’t know how John was so calm.

“Umm,” Greg said, his voice shaky as he watched Sherlock’s eyes turn black again and his fangs drop to shine in the soft glow of the florescent lights.

“It’s alright,” John said, putting one hand around Sherlock’s neck while the other pinned both the vampire’s arms to his side. “Remember, Sherlock, patience,” he whispered seductively, licking a strip up the young vampire’s neck.

Sherlock shivered, the act pulling the animal inside him back just enough to remember… _my plan? What John wants me to do? What…am I supposed to do?_ He nodded his head, but still strained slightly to get to the offered leg. The dark hairs on the human’s leg were standing on end, waiting for the predator to strike.

“Easy, Sherlock, give your body a chance to produce enough of the numbing agent so you don’t hurt Greg.” John allowed Sherlock to lower his head just enough for his nose to touch the pale skin. Liquid that wasn’t saliva started to fill Sherlock’s mouth. It was a tad savory, a tad bitter, and Sherlock knew it was his body’s way of telling him it was time to feed.

Sherlock opened his mouth, displaying his fangs, and then bit into Greg’s leg.

“Ahh!” Greg gasped, but didn’t dare pull away from the hungry vampire.

Blood, sweet, sweet, blood flooded Sherlock’s mouth as he sucked against the skin in earnest. Greg tasted just like he smelled, like sweet cherries and smoked wood. It was the most delicious, fulfilling thing Sherlock had ever tasted, and he never wanted to let go. But, his sire seemed to have different ideas and pulled him back by the throat.

Sherlock roared, some of the blood dripping from his open mouth onto the couch. “Let go of me!” he shouted and lunged at Greg again. The hunter panicked and fell off the couch and continued scooting backwards, away from the crazed animal. _He’s getting away! I can’t let him get away!_

Without thinking, Sherlock twisted his head and bit down on John’s arm as hard as he could and pulled. Putrid sulfur filled his mouth as a deafening scream filled his sensitive ears. But he was free! John’s hands let go of him for just an instant and Sherlock was on Greg.

“Sherlock, please!” Greg begged, but rammed his fist into the vampire’s solar plexus.

The hungry vampire didn’t care though, the punch feeling like a soft breeze, and he pinned the hunter’s neck with his teeth. Sucking as hard as he could, blood filled Sherlock’s mouth and cooled the burning fire in his belly and settled the ache in his teeth. His prey twitched and batted at his sides, but none of that mattered, soon it would be dead and Sherlock could take the rest of its blood in peace.

If Sherlock wasn’t so enthralled in sating his hunger, he would have heard the angry growl behind him. Fingers wrapped around his neck and pulled him up easily. He saw Greg’s body lying below him, blood slowly dribbling from his neck, and eyes wide. Then, his vision was filled with a very angry John, whose eyes had turned as black as coal. “No!” the old vampire shouted, then threw Sherlock against the far wall.

The vampire groaned, but quickly stood up, angry and hungry. John might be his sire, but the student has to overthrow the teacher at some point. Sherlock saw John down on his knees, licking the hunter’s neck in an attempt to help the wound close before it’s too late.

While his sire was distracted, Sherlock attacked. He jumped on the vampire’s back and latched his teeth onto the muscle between his shoulder and neck. John screamed, but reached his arms back and grabbed Sherlock, throwing him to the ground. “Stop, Sherlock!” he half demanded, half begged.

Sherlock was gone though. As soon as Greg had walked into the house, the little self-control Sherlock had was gone, and the vampire was there to take its prey. The young vampire growled and hissed at John, who had straddled his hips and held his arms down easily. “I’m sorry, Sherlock, but I have to do this.”

There was only confusion for a moment, and then when John’s teeth descended on the bite mark that had turned him, Sherlock understood. Searing pain shot through his body and white filled his vision. He heard John’s apologies as the world turned to black.   


	13. Apologize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's POV. John and Greg regroup. Mycroft joins in. The boys come up with another way to help Sherlock learn patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter. It is unbeta'ed, so please forgive the mistakes. 
> 
> Also, I started a new job on Friday, but I'm going to do my best to stick with the schedule of updating every Sunday. The chapters might become a tad shorter, though. But who knows, maybe I'll become a speed writer and a 9-5 won't effect my stories at all! Fingers crossed! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

 Chapter 13 – Apologize

John let Sherlock fall from his arms. The young vampire hit the floor with a loud thud, his silvery blue eyes closing while his dark brown curls framed his pale face. He would have looked angelic, but the red smears of blood marking Sherlock’s lips and cheeks told a very different story. “Great fucking going, John,” he snapped at himself. Leaving Sherlock in the coma like state John had put him in, the old vampire went over to crouch above Greg.

“You’re alright,” he said to the panicked man. John bent down and licked first at the wound on the hunter’s neck, then the one on his leg. The healing properties in John’s saliva worked fast, closing up the barbaric wounds Sherlock’s two canines had made.

Greg continued to twitch and struggle weakly, pressing at John’s shoulders and trying to kick the vampire off. “I’m trying to help, hunter,” John growled, letting his anger at the situation get the better of him. The terrified look in those wide brown eyes below him, made the old vampire soften. He’d forgotten what it was like to fear death; to worry if the breath that escaped one’s lunges would be the last.

“You haven’t lost that much blood,” John said, picking Greg up bridal style and placing him on the couch. “Luckily, Sherlock had no idea what he was doing, so it was more just an aggressive reaction than an actual feeding. I’ll get you some orange juice,” he said patting Greg on the bare thigh. Although he would never mistreat a human, other than taking a few sips, Greg was still a hunter of his kind, so he didn’t feel too much pity for the man. He was a doctor first and a vampire second though, and John would make sure Greg was in full health before he left.

He went to the kitchen, double checking that Sherlock was still passed out on the ground, and filled a glass full of sugary orange juice. “Drink,” John told him, shoving the glass into the man’s hands. While the hunter gulped it down, John ran his fingers over the healed wounds on Greg’s neck. Luckily, there was no scaring even though Sherlock went at the man’s neck like a rabid wolf.

“Is…” Greg swallowed, squeezing his eyes together from shock and perhaps a little bit of pain, “he okay?”

“Sherlock? Yeah, he’s fine. It’s a little trick my sire used on me once or twice.” John gave a sad smile, reminiscing. He had lived a long time, and far too many of those years were lived alone without anyone to watch his back. _Jacques Bushe, what a vampire. What has it been? 180…190 years since he got the stake? Damn, he would know how to handle Sherlock. He sure knew how to handle me._

Shaking the memories away, John turned his attention back to Greg, who was gulping down the last sip of orange juice. “I reopened his turning bite. Since I’m his sire, my DNA is already a part of him, so when my saliva reenters his system it sort of…shuts him down until I close up the wound. I’m not really sure why it works, but it is only a power given to a sire for his or her progeny. I suppose it’s a way to help control a newly formed vampire.”

“Damn,” Greg sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. A little bit of life was starting to come back to the human’s features. “What do we do now?”

 “Well,” John said, sitting down by the hunter, “I suppose I expected this to happen.”

“You what?! You knew Sherlock was going to try to eat me alive?” Greg shouted, trying to sit up further, but his eyes rolled back a little and he fell to the couch again.

“Sherlock’s a new vampire and you’re the first human he’s been around, save for that nurse at hospital. Of course he’s going to act like an animal. We all did…and some of us still do; the ones who don’t learn to control their urges, that is.”

“So…”

“Well, the way I see it, you can either put your trousers back on, leave, and let Mycroft come back in a couple of days to try again, or,” John paused, looking over at Sherlock, assessing, “I can wake him up and we can try again. It’s up to you. You need to be willing or your fear is going to trigger Sherlock’s instinct to hunt.”

Greg sighed deeply, looking up at the ceiling. Before he could answer, a knock at the door interrupted the silence. John’s head shot up, sniffing the air to have a lemony scent fill his nose. _Mycroft. Fuck, what is he doing here._ A harsh knock came again, then John got up to open the door.

The elegant man strode in, his eyes the only feature betraying his worry. “Where is he?” he said, before spotting Greg on the couch and rushing over to him. “My God, what has he done?”

“I’m alright, My,” the hunter said, smiling a little when Mycroft caressed his cheek.

John cocked his head at the display of affection. He had suspected, but now it was confirmed that the two men were secret lovers. It was a good thing to know in case this whole thing turned on him, but of course he would never speak a word if the circumstances didn’t call for it. Secretly, he was quite happy for them; love was hard, sometimes impossible, to find in this cruel world.

“You said you could handle this, vampire!” Mycroft turned his fierce gaze upon John, trying to intimidate the old vampire. John felt guilt for turning Sherlock, that was all; these vampire hunters’ well-being did not concern him. It was cold hearted, but John had very little heart left, and he had learned long ago that too much weight on one’s shoulders could crack the heart in to a million pieces.   

John sighed. “As I already explained to Greg, which I’m sure you saw on the surveillance videos,” John accused, angry that he hadn’t spotted them before now. It was the only explanation for why Mycroft showed up after Greg’s attack. “Sherlock is a new vampire. He is strong, he is hungry, and, as you very well know, he is manipulative and brilliant. These traits are like tender just ready to be set ablaze by the presence of blood. This is dangerous, both of you knew that before offering to help.”

Mycroft, who still thought he could scare John with his eyes, went over to examine his brother. “He’s alright?”

“Yes, he’s just in a sleep like state that can only be lifted when I seal the wounds on his neck. Only one of you should be here when I wake him up,” John said, taking the empty glass from Greg and bringing it to the small kitchen.

“What are you planning to do different this time, vampire?” Mycroft asked, using the word ‘vampire’ as an insult.

John had to fight to roll his eyes, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to annoy the human more. “I have an idea, but I wanted to see how Sherlock would react the first time before I decided to use this method.”

“Will it harm him?” Mycroft asked, as he kneeled by Sherlock’s limp form, brushing the sweaty curls from his forehead.

“No,” John chuckled slightly, “quite the opposite actually. I will tie Sherlock down with some ghost twine, which I believe Greg brought in his car, yes?” Greg nodded, then John continued. “I will have one of you stand at different distances away from him and eventually let him drink from your arm. While Sherlock is leaning patience I will be…pleasuring him,” John said. Slight pink would have filled his cheeks if he still had blood flowing through him. It wasn’t like him to get embarrassed, but to suck off and finger a vampire while another man watched…well, it wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever done, but it was in the top ten of awkward moments.

“Pleasure him?” Mycroft asked, confused, though John was sure the man knew exactly what he meant.

“I will be providing sexual stimulation in order to form the relationship between pleasure and patience. When Sherlock starts to drink, I will stop. When you pull away, I continue pleasuring him until I say we are done.”

“That…that works?” Greg asked, his throat and ears pink.

“I’ve only heard of the technique, but I’ve never seen it done,” John said, “but I think it is going to be the only way Sherlock will learn to control his hunger. He is too obsessive, too manipulative, too hungry, to be able to stop by himself.”

Both humans sighed, exchanging looks that John couldn’t quite read. “I will require both of us to be here for this experiment. I have tranquilizers and net guns in the car, which will be used at my discretion on either of you,” Mycroft said.

John raised his eyebrow at the threat. _Well, if you want to incapacitate the only person who is protecting them from Sherlock, by all means._ “Alright,” John nodded. “Let’s get things set up then, shall way?”

It took an hour to strap Sherlock securely to a chair. They removed all of his clothes and wrapped the twine around calves, thighs, stomach, chest, and arms. Mycroft decided he would be the one who Sherlock drank from, while Greg sat on the couch with a tranq gun in his hand. The two humans had talked alone outside, though they didn’t know John could hear them, and discussed when and if they would shoot the older vampire. It was good to know where the humans stood, and at least they weren’t planning on shooting him unless things went south.

“Alright, roll up your sleeves, Mycroft,” John said. Thankfully, the man didn’t argue and took off his suit jacket and did as John asked. “I’m going to wake him up now. Is everyone ready?”

Greg nodded from his position on the couch and Mycroft just continued to stare intently at his brother’s unconscious form. John could feel sympathy, of course he could; he wasn’t a monster after all. Harry would have been the same way if his sire hadn’t killed her and his parents while they slept. They did exactly what Mycroft was doing now, trying to look after his brother. It was confusing though, to John, he couldn’t decide if what his sire did was a mercy and what he was doing was cruel.

At least his parents never had to live with the fact that their child was a vampire who killed people. But, he did miss them from time to time; about every fifty years or so he’d see a girl who reminded him of Harry, or a man who had a mustache just like his father’s. _You’d think in 234 years you’d be over something like that._

“Alright,” he said, washing away those thoughts that haunted him. He could help Sherlock, help Mycroft, make his mistake better, make it so the two brothers could still have one another. “Let’s begin.”

John pulled Sherlock’s limp neck to the side and pressed his tongue to the blood crusted wound. He licked slowly, laving at the spot until his saliva began to heal the two puncture wounds.

It didn’t take long after the bite closed for Sherlock to stir. He murmured something unintelligible, then began flexing his fingers and toes. “Sherlock, Sherlock can you hear me?” John asked.

A slow purr turned into a deep growl as Sherlock’s eyes shot open. The three men watched as black took over light blue like a plague, and Sherlock disappeared into the darkness John had put in him.

John looked up at Mycroft who looked both terrified and distraught. The old vampire had seen that look before. His mother had looked at him with such sadness that it almost broke John’s still heart. _This time will be different. I promise. This time I can help them. This time, no blood will be shed, I promise, Sherlock._    


	14. Something's Got to Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY ON ALL FALL DOWN: John is a 234 year old vampire who doesn't kill his prey. Sherlock is a vampire hunter who, instead of killing John like Mycroft told him too, captures John and experiments on him to better understand vampires. As always, Sherlock pushes things too far and things go terribly wrong and John turns him into a vampire. Mycroft, a founding member of the League, and Greg, a vampire hunter, help John and Sherlock escape to a secluded cabin where John hopes to train Sherlock in self control. Basically, Pavlov's dog meets blow jobs. 
> 
> THIS CHAPTER: Sherlock's POV. Mycroft's trying to be a good big brother. John's trying to be a good sire. Greg's trying to be a good friend. Sherlock is just fucking starving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your patience! If any of you followed my Entropy series, I will using the same posting schedule. I'm going to do my best to post a new chapter every other Sunday. You can also check my [Tumblr ](http://nightfall24.tumblr.com/) page to see if I've updated early. So, here it is, folks! Let's get back into the swing of things, shall we?
> 
> Unbeta'd so please forgive any typos :) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

 Chapter 14 – Something’s Got to Give

Sherlock could smell the blood in the air like it was a live wire vibrating with energy. It made his entire body tingle with anticipation and his fangs ache with need. He could envision himself leaping off the chair to tackle his brother, sinking his teeth into the human’s neck and draining him dry. Then, he would move on to Greg, the helpless man who thought a net gun would keep him safe.

It was all a dream though. In reality, Sherlock was naked and tied to a chair with his sire standing over him, a sad and disappointed look on his face. It hurt him, somewhere down deep inside, but especially the bite on his neck, to see John look at him that way. The frustration and regret was palpable, like a thick rotting musk from a bog.

The inner battle of wanting to please his sire, wanting to follow every word John said and the undying thirst for blood was making Sherlock’s brain hurt. A small whine came from his throat, followed by a few light growls at Mycroft.

“Shhh, you’re alright, Sherlock,” John said quietly, petting a cold hand through his hair. At that one touch, tension started leaking out of the young vampire’s body. It was as if John could release some sort of relaxing pheromone that only affected Sherlock. “We’re not going to hurt you, I promise, love. We just want to help you, okay?”

“Sherlock…” Mycroft said hesitantly, taking a step closer to his brother.

It was as if the voice came from deep inside a cave, the echoes barely penetrating the loud thud of blood rushing through the human’s veins. All Sherlock could see were glowing red lines and a large beating mass in the middle of the man’s chest. He tried though to see the face of the familiar voice, but he couldn’t when his mouth felt like sandpaper from lack of nourishment.

Quickly, Sherlock let the predator take over and he used his master manipulation abilities to try and get Mycroft closer. “M-Mycroft…please,” he whimpered, sagging just enough to appear broken, but keeping his muscles taught and ready to strike. “I need you.”

His brother’s face was a mix of emotion that Sherlock had never seen before from the man. He was terrified, sad, angry, and worried all at the same time, making the little human part of Sherlock’s heart feel something akin to… _guilt, perhaps? Or maybe it’s just hunger. Yeah, definitely hungry._

Mycroft slowly approached Sherlock, his bare arm held out tentatively. “Slowly, Mycroft,” John warned. The old vampire had moved to stand behind Sherlock, one hand nestled in Sherlock’s hair and the other braced on his pale ribs.

When the forearm was only a finger length away, Sherlock threw his head forward, baring his teeth. The hand in his hair remained, but his sire didn’t stop him from attacking his prey. He felt uncomfortable not having his hands to keep Mycroft from moving away, his instincts telling him to latch on with every limb. Nevertheless, his teeth hit their mark. A loud yelp came from his brother; that and the sweet toffee flavored blood that coated his tongue were the only indication that Sherlock had impaled the arm.

“Drink slowly, Sherlock, slowly,” John said sternly, gripping his hair a tad harder. “Savor it, don’t gulp it.”

Sherlock merely growled low in his throat, focused only on the blood flooding his head and roaring in his ears. Then, like he was a helpless infant, John grabbed his lower jaw, pulling down until Sherlock’s fangs withdrew from Mycroft’s arm. The human stumbled back, his face flushed from the calming drugs Sherlock was pumping into his system.

John grabbed Mycroft’s arm quickly and licked the two puncture wounds closed. Seeing the blood disappear made Sherlock buck against his restraints in an attempt to strike again, but the ghost twine held fast. “Shh,” John whispered in his ear, the warmth breath sending a shiver down his spine.

His cock was half hard already from just the pleasure of drinking blood, but it continued to twitch when John stroked his hand down Sherlock’s stomach. “Don’t focus on them, Sherlock. Only me, only…” his sire’s voice drifted off as his cold hand made its way past short curly hairs to grip the base of his cock.

The young vampire’s pitching slowed, but his fangs still vibrated with need. The fact that the blood was so close, SO CLOSE, but he couldn’t get to it was driving Sherlock mad. But, the hand that was slowly jerking him off now, was also slowly driving him mad. There were two kinds of hunger now, battling out in his body.

The fire building in his groin, fueled by the fresh blood flowing through his veins, made Sherlock’s eyes close for a moment. The sounds of hearts beating faded into the background when John licked a wet strip from his top vertebra to under his right ear. He shivered and let out a purr as his head fell back, relishing the blood still on his tongue and the slow movements on his cock.

“Okay,” he heard John say. Then, as suddenly as the hand was there it was gone. Sherlock’s eyes snapped open to see Mycroft walking towards him again, forearm exposed. Little smears of blood still lingered on his brother’s pale skin, reminding Sherlock of what he was supposed to be doing. Blood, yes, he needed blood.

“Mine,” Sherlock lunged forward, latching his teeth back onto the arm. He heard Mycroft gasp again, this time followed by a loud thud from the human’s knees hitting the floor.

Mycroft had collapsed in pleasure, which was perfect, Sherlock’s brain supplied; now, his blood source couldn’t flee from him. The vampire hummed in pleasure, the blood flowing into his mouth, into his heart, into his limbs, and into his cock made him suck greedily with the intent of draining his brother dry.

Then a finger made its way into his mouth and pulled Mycroft away from him. He saw the man collapse to the floor in a boneless heap, ready for the taking. Instead of lunging for him though, Sherlock waited a moment to see what his sire would do. Sherlock wanted blood, of course he did, he was a fucking vampire after all, but he was also learning what happened in between feedings.

What happened next, Sherlock never would have anticipated. John moved from behind him, kneeling down in front of Mycroft to check the man’s pulse, pupil reaction, and close up the two puncture wounds, before turning and placing his hands on Sherlock’s knees.

The old vampire, his sire, had a wicked look in his eyes that had turned almost completely black. Thin lines of blue betrayed the fact that John was aroused, not letting his vampire take over. Without preamble, John opened his mouth and took Sherlock’s entire length like it was nothing.

The coolness from John’s mouth mixed with the warmth of the blood flowing through Sherlock’s veins made him squirm in his seat like a teenage boy receiving his first blow job. “J-John,” he groaned, going almost completely lax in his seat. The thought of the two humans in the room floated to the back of Sherlock’s mind. His thirst for blood becoming a secondary need compared to what John’s mouth was doing to him.

“Mycroft?” he heard John ask. “Do you think you can give him one more?” Sherlock didn’t hear the answer but when both the frigid mouth and hand left his achingly hard cock, the vampire’s mouth started to water. He’d been good, so now it was John’s turn to produce a reward. _A circle. Tit for tat. I get amazing blow jobs if I don’t drain the humans dry. But they smell so fucking appetizing._

The human attempted to stand, but his knees continued to wobble. Resorting to crawling, Mycroft made his way closer to his brother. A soft grunt and steady panting came from his prey and the stretched material around the man’s crotch told Sherlock he was the most powerful predator in the world to bring Mycroft Holmes to his knees. Well, the most powerful predator in the world if he wasn’t tied to a fucking chair by the vampire who created him.

Mycroft presented his other forearm, as the one Sherlock had attacked earlier was black and blue. “Just a little bit more, Sherlock, and then we’ll finish this session.” John kept his hand in Sherlock’s hair, but let the vampire strike with the force his muscles were designed to create.

The hot blood once again filled his mouth, making his limbs buzz and tingle. Mycroft groaned and collapsed to the ground, his arm still raised and in his brother’s mouth. The human twitched once before John pulled Sherlock away, letting the arm drop to the ground like a lead weight.

“Fuck,” Greg shouted. “What the bloody fuck did you do, vampire?!” The human stood up, his tranquilizer gun in hand and pointed directly at Sherlock’s sire. Greg looked a bit unsteady, but Sherlock could smell the adrenaline pouring off the man in waves. 

_How dare you!_ The vampire growled deeply, blood dripping down his chin as he strained against the ghost twine. Something primal was triggered in Sherlock, an urge to protect his sire so great he felt his whole body ache with fear and anger. If this human hurt his sire, Sherlock would… _I’ll die…I’ll die, I can feel it like a string between two blades ready to snap close._ With that thought haunting him, the young vampire surged one last time to no avail.

“He’s fine, hunter,” John said, admirably and frustratingly keeping his cool. Couldn’t John see that Greg wanted him dead? Sherlock couldn’t understand how his sire was so calm when both their lives depended on some stupid love sick human. “Keep an eye on Sherlock’s bonds. I’ll tend to Mycroft.” When Greg didn’t move, Sherlock thought John’s anger would show. Instead, the older vampire kept his voice level, even kind, when he spoke to the human. “Greg, Mycroft is fine…really fine actually. He’s high as a cloud right now from all the drugs Sherlock pumped into him. What I need you to do is make sure the ghost twine isn’t tearing or cutting into Sherlock’s skin too much. Please.”

After a moments though, and a long glance at his lover on the floor, Greg kept his gun aimed at John but made his way over to Sherlock. “What did you hope to gain from this?” the human growled. Greg ran his fingers slowly over Sherlock’s skin, touching the twine and adjusting it around the vampire’s bicep.

“We’ve gained a lot of ground,” John said slowly, his mind obviously focused on Mycroft, not Greg.

“I wouldn’t call one of the founding members of the League lying passed out on the floor ‘gaining a lot of ground.’” Greg said. He continued his inspection of Sherlock’s torso. Thankfully, his focus was straying from Sherlock’s sire and onto the younger vampire. Sherlock sniffed the human lightly, purring at the scent of fresh meat. He paused though, glancing briefly at his cock that was dripping light fluid onto his stomach. If he tried to attack Greg now, then John wouldn’t finish what he started.

“Well,” John said, picking up Mycroft underneath the armpits and dragging him back over to the couch, “the fact that he’s only sniffing you and not trying to take a bite, I’d call that a huge leap in Sherlock’s self-control.” John settled the eldest Holmes comfortably on the couch, crossing his bruised and bloody arms over his chest like a…well, a sleeping vampire in his coffin.

Greg only huffed and threw his gun over his shoulder. “Sherlock’s secure. Now what?”

John laughed at the question purposed by the hunter. Why? Sherlock had no idea. All the young vampire knew was the blood was starting to fade away, making his cock slowly deflate. “Sherlock, you’ve been very, very good. I’m so proud of you,” John said, a slanted smile coming across his face. “I believe it is time for your reward.”

His sire walked towards him, his hips swaying dramatically to tease Sherlock. “Oh for fuck’s sake!” Greg groaned, walking over to Mycroft to kneel by his side. The human’s didn’t matter anymore though, no, all that mattered was John was coming to take care of him.

Falling to his knees before Sherlock, John put his hands on the other vampire’s knees and gazed up at Sherlock through his lashes. “Good boy,” John whispered before he licked a wet strip from Sherlock’s dawn up bollocks to the tip of his cock. Sherlock bucked against the twine, his hands straining to reach for his sire.

Slowly, John worked Sherlock’s hardness into his mouth. As he moved his head up and down, cold hands worked their way over Sherlock’s inner thighs and flank. Somehow, John knew exactly where Sherlock was most sensitive. And he took advantage of it.

It only took a perfect swirl of John’s cold tongue around the head of Sherlock’s cock and the blunt nails scratching down his side for the vampire to come with a shout. He pulsed four times into his sire’s mouth, the last being sucked out of him greedily. With a whimper from Sherlock and a loud wet pop from John’s mouth, the young vampire’s cock fell limp and glistening between his legs.

“Rest, Sherlock, you’ve earned it,” John said softly, standing up even slower. He cupped the younger vampire’s cheek, caressing the pale flesh gently with his thumb.

“John…” Sherlock moaned weakly. His strength was leaving him quickly, each limb turning into jelly. “Wha’?” The words became tied around his limp tongue, infuriating Sherlock even more. His mind was his greatest asset and when he couldn’t convey his thoughts with speech…it was enough to drive a man mad. But John, his sire, his beautiful wonderful creator, seemed to understand his panic.

“Your body is still learning how to process blood as an energy source, sweetheart,” the older vampire said kindly, keeping his palm on Sherlock’s face. “You’ll sleep for at least five hours so your body can completely focus on its transition. Don’t worry, I’ll be here to watch over you while you rest.”

John planted a kiss on Sherlock’s head and nuzzled his temple lightly. He tried to fight the sleep, he really did, but with his sire so close, a full belly, and the soft purring noise John was emitting lulled Sherlock into a deep sleep. The pressure from the twine loosened and the next thing Sherlock felt was someone carrying him. By the time his head hit something soft, Sherlock was asleep and completely reliant on his sire and two humans for his protection.

“Sleep, Sherlock, I’ll be here when you wake,” John whispered.                     


	15. Something's Not Right Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's POV. The aftermath of Sherlock's feeding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, everyone!
> 
> There is a bit of violence in this chapter, so beware. Also, not beta'd so please forgive the errors. 
> 
> Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 15 – Something’s Not Right Here

“What in the hell did Sherlock do to him?” Greg growled. The human was sitting on the couch with Mycroft’s head in his lap. His hand carded nervously through his lover’s hair, forcing a touch of sympathy from John. Although the two men on the couch had dedicated their lives to slaughtering his kind, oddly enough, John didn’t want to rip them limb from limb. Did he like them? Eh, not really. But John did respect them for sticking with Sherlock even when their friend and brother was turning into a vampire.

“You League really are an ignorant lot, aren’t you?” John said, walking into the kitchen to pour another glass of orange juice. With a full glass, the vampire walked over to kneel by Mycroft’s head. “Sherlock released a chemical into Mycroft’s blood stream; much like a leech uses enzymes to numb the skin it is preparing to puncture. This chemical, however, acts like a drug, making our prey complacent and even-” John looked over at the tight material at Mycroft’s crotch “-appreciative.”

Mycroft groaned, shifting slightly and squeezing his eyes together. “You’re alright,” Greg said softly, his focus shifting from John back to the man in his lap. “He’s going to be alright, vampire.” It wasn’t a question, but a threat. John smiled.

“Get him to drink this,” he handed over the glass of orange juice. “All of it. I’ll get some towels to clean up a bit before Sherlock wakes up.”

“Sh’lock…”Mycroft rasped, trying to sit up. Both Greg and John put a hand on the man’s chest, pushing him gently back down to the couch.

“He’s fine, Mycroft. He’s in the bedroom sleeping, well…more like hibernating,” John said, trying to reassure the man who, even in this state, was worried about his little brother. These humans were starting to grow on him. _Well this isn’t good._ “Just drink the juice, then you’ll feel better.”

Without another word, John headed towards the bathroom in search of a couple of towels. He made a detour, however, when a strange tingling sensation tickled just behind his ears. It was strange, even though Sherlock was in a completely different room, John could feel the other vampire, sense him in a way. And right now, John felt like something was wrong.

The older vampire entered the bedroom where he’d left Sherlock to sleep. His progeny was now on his stomach, his long limbs splayed wide with his fists gripping the sheets tightly. Sherlock grunted and whimpered, his head twitched back and forth. The rapid movement under his eyelids told John everything he needed to know.

Moving faster than any human alive, key word…alive, John kneeled down on the bed next to the thrashing vampire. He put his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders and pulled him onto his side. Pressing himself close to Sherlock’s body, John pressed his lips to curly matted hair and wrapped his arms around a pale bony chest.

“Shh, Sherlock, shhh, sweetheart,” John cooed next to Sherlock’s ear. This was one of the times that John wished his body was warm; warmth offered comfort, warmth meant home. John’s skin was ice cold with no movement below, no life. The sire did his best though, and his presence seemed to calm the vampire. “There you go. It’s going to be okay, Sherlock, I promise.”

When the shaking and whimpers finally ceased, John pulled the navy comforter up to Sherlock’s shoulders. He left the door slightly ajar, just in case. The nagging just behind his ears had faded tremendously into just a slight buzzing feeling. His vampire wasn’t in danger anymore.

John quickly headed to the bathroom and grabbed three thick towels. When he saw his reflection, pale skin with lackluster blond hair, the old vampire looked every bit of his 234 years. He sighed and went back into the living room where Greg and Mycroft were still sitting on the couch.

“Sherlock’s sleeping,” John told Mycroft as he kneeled by the man. There was a bit of life coming back to the man’s eyes. The glass of juice was empty and the wounds Sherlock inflicted were completely healed, if not a bit bruised. Everything was okay, no one died and everything was fucking okay.

“John,” he heard Greg say from behind him. John looked up to see the hunter with a crossbow in his hands. “It’s over,” the man growled, his eyes dark. Before John could react, a wooden steak shot through his heart by the humans he was trying to help.  _Fucking figures. Good going, John._

_I’m dead, finally. But Sherlock, oh God, Sherlock, I’m so sorry. Wait…who’s that?_  

“John! John!” a voice shouted at John from the darkness surrounding him. _No, no, I’m dead! I’m supposed to be dead, go away!_ “Get up, you fucking vampire!”

John opened his eyes to see Sherlock’s curly hair in front of him. _What?_ The next thing the vampire knew, hands were on his shoulders yanking him out of bed. Greg, it was the hunter who shot him pulling John out of bed.

John was startled out of sleep and murdered by the man in front of him… _okay, it was only a nightmare, but still_ , so it didn’t take a stretch of the imagination to see why the vampire now had Greg pressed up against the wall with his teeth bared. He growled and hissed, his eyes turning completely black as the vampire inside him leapt to the forefront to protect John’s body.

For how confident John was and how much he despised living for eternity, he sure as hell was not ready to die by a stake in the heart. And this….this HUMAN just tried to kill him and was probably going for Sherlock next!

“John, stop,” the man wheezed, his wind pipe slowly becoming more and more constricted by John’s hand. But John didn’t stop. The vampire was going to squeeze the life out of the human and rid the world of a hunter, a good hunter at that. Until…”They’re coming,” Greg gasped, his eye growing wide in panic.

“Who?” John asked, taking a large whiff to scent the perimeter. Before Greg could answer, the vampire realized exactly ‘who’ was coming. _The League._ John growled, his teeth millimeters away from the hunters neck. “You brought them here!” It wasn’t a question, it didn’t need to be. Where there were two hunters, more would always come.

Greg shook his head rapidly. ‘No,’ he tried to say, but words could no longer make it through his crushed vocal cords. ‘Please,’ he mouthed, his face scrunched in pain.

As the adrenaline from his dream started to wear off, John went against his vampire’s judgement and released the hunter. Greg immediately collapsed to the ground, gasping for much needed air. “How did they find us?” John demanded. If his senses were correct, which they always were, the League where a quarter of a kilometer away and closing fast.

“I…I don’t know, but you and John need to get out of here. Now, before they get here.” Greg slowly started to stand, putting most of his weight on the wall behind him.

“And how do you suggest we do that, hunter? It’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon and Sherlock is in no condition to fight or flee. Mycroft is one of the board members, can’t he…I don’t know, suck their dicks for them and tell them to leave?”

Greg just glared at John and, well, the vampire really couldn’t blame him.

“Fucking bastards,” John grumbled, because he knew what he’d have to do. He was a killer, there was no getting around that, but it didn’t mean the vampire liked taking a life; even if it was a filthy no good hunter’s life. “Bring Mycroft in here with Sherlock. You can either help me or stay in here with them, but don’t get in my way.” John said.

Before the vampire left to defend his new nest, he padded over to kneel next to Sherlock’s sleeping form. “I’ll take care of everything, Sherlock. Don’t you worry. Just rest, okay?” With a soft, cold kiss to the younger vampire’s lips, John turned to leave.

Greg has his arm wrapped around Mycroft as he hauled the man to the bed. Mycroft was still out of it, if his blown pupils and content expression was anything to go off of.

“I’ll protect Sherlock,” Greg said just as John was about to close the door to the bedroom. “I’ll…They won’t hurt him, not if I have anything to say about it.” The human’s words were true, naive, but true.

_You’re just as threatening as a vampire, mate. They’re not going to let any of us live if they take this building._ “Thank you,” was all John could think to say and closed the door.

With another good sniff, John’s eyes grew dark and his fangs dropped. The threat was here, at his door, near his vampire and humans. John growled low in his throat and disappeared into the shadows of the little cabin. He would wait for the best time to strike, just like he was taught by his sire.

John had to stifle a laugh, however, when a knock came from the front door. _Really? You’re knocking? Ah, yes, do come in and have some tea, won’t you? Bloody morons. This is going to be easy._

There were a few clicks, then the front door slowly creeped open, allowing the sunlight to flow into the living room. John skirted around the edge of the room, planning his first move. In the end, he thought it was best to make a bold statement to all those who dared to enter his nest. So, when the first hunter stepped through the doorway, John grabbed the woman by the shoulders and threw her across the room. His vampire was satisfied with the crunch her neck made upon impact.

“Back off, back off!” one of the hunters shouted from outside. “Anderson, bring in the proxy.”

John cocked his head, but prepared himself for whatever was about to come through the door. He wasn’t quite prepared for a little toaster looking device rolling in on wheels that were taken off an RC Car. It must have had a camera on top, because it stopped for a moment, buzzed, then headed straight for John.

The vampire stared at the contraption for a moment, then decided it was better to just break the thing before it shot a net at him. John lifted his foot and brought it down hard on the toy. “John, NO!” he heard Greg shout from the other side of the room. It was too late.

 As soon as he felt the hard plastic break under his foot, John knew he’d made a mistake and both he, Sherlock, Greg, and Mycroft would pay the price for his ignorance. The ‘proxy’ exploded with a light so bright it through John back a few feet. It was ultra violet and it burned, it burned like John had never felt.

The vampire howled with rage and agony, covering his face with burnt hands. _How did I not see it? I didn’t even know this kind of think existed. Hunters aren’t that smart!_ The flash only lasted for a moment, but the damage was done. Even though the vampire was back in a dark cabin, the searing pain left him immobilized.

“Well, well, so Moriarty was right, after all,” a tall, skeletal man, with thinning gray hair said smugly, looking around the room in disgust. “Humans, hunters no less, harboring vampires. I thought I saw potential in you, Lestrade.” Without a second glance, the hunter shot Greg with some sort of dart.

“No!” John growled. His entire body started to shiver and he could feel hibernation pulling at him. A vampire’s body needed rest to heal from severe wounds, or else they’re old bodies would soon wither away. “Fuck you,” John’s growling turned into groans as he rolled on to his back.

“My, my,” the head hunter tsked. “John Watson, you’ve caused quite the mess haven’t you? Hmm, take him back to HQ. I’m interested to see what kind of vampire is capable of such influence over three of our best hunters.”

‘No!” John whimpered, his eyes forcing themselves closed. His body was betraying him. But, vampires were selfish beings, John knew. His body needed to heal itself, whether Sherlock needed him or not. _I’m so sorry, Sherlock. I failed._    


	16. Burning Bridges (Pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The League located the cabin where Sherlock and John were hiding. John has been subdued. Sherlock, as a 'baby' vampire, is in a sleep like state so his body can digest after his first real feeding. Mycroft is drugged up and low on blood after Sherlock's first feeding. Greg is the only one left to fight against the Hunters who want to take them away. Oh yeah, and Greg has a potty mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry about the delay! This chapter was suppose to be a lot longer, but I wanted to post something. Hopefully, I will get part 2 up before the end of this coming week. I'm condo hunting right now, so every time I get on my laptop I go to Zillow instead of writing. Damn living is expensive! 
> 
> Anyways, once I move, I should have more time to write because there won't be as many distractions :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter 16 – Burning Bridges (Pt. 1)

Greg watched as John fell to the ground. The vampire released an inhuman growl that sent shivers down the hunter’s spine. He didn’t gawk for long though. No, Greg was too well trained to panic in situations that went to shit.

John was lost for now. The vampire was not only going into a healing sleep, he was surrounded by six hunters; some of which Greg had worked with personally and could attest to their skills in taking down vampires.

Sherlock, well, Sherlock was still asleep too. _God damn vampires! How have these bastards survived so long by sleeping all the time?_ There was no way Greg was going to get Mycroft out of here without bringing Sherlock. Greg knew how guilty Mycroft felt about his brother’s actions, even if Sherlock was a grown man who made his own decisions. His love for the other man wouldn’t allow Greg to put Mycroft in that sort of position.

Greg wasn’t stupid enough to take on the other Hunters, so the man bolted back into the bedroom and closed the door. “Mycroft,” he whispered, walking over to the bed where both Holmes men lay. “We need to leave, okay? But I can’t carry both of you. Do you think you can walk on your own?”

“Hmm?” Mycroft grunted, but opened his eyes and made a valiant attempt to get off the bed. “Yes, yes, of course I can, why wouldn’t I be able to walk on my own?”

“God, why in the hell did I have to fall in love with a bloody Holmes,” Greg grunted as he lifted Sherlock over his shoulder. Although the man- _no, vampire. Not man, vampire –_ was as thin as a slice of bread, his dead weight pulled on Greg’s shoulder. The adrenaline running through the Hunter’s veins kept him moving towards the window in haste.

“No, Gregory, no!” Mycroft shouted, alerting the hunters to their exact location.

“My, shut the fuck up and get out this window,” Greg hissed at the stoned man.

“You can’t take Sherlock out into the sun,” he said, a tad breathless. Mycroft leaned against the bed post, his face a tad more pale than normal. “He’ll…he’ll…” before the words escaped his lips, his lover collapsed to the floor.

“Bloody FUCK!” Greg growled, dropping Sherlock back on to the bed to tend to Mycroft. “Hey, hey now,” he lowered his voice to coo at the man on the ground. Loud voices could be heard outside the door, signifying they had little to no time before the League was upon them.

Mycroft’s eyes fluttered open, though a glaze still remained. He grabbed Greg’s hand that was caressing his cheek. “Don’t let them…Sherlock…Please, Greg,” Mycroft said, showing more emotion than Greg had seen in the seven years he’d known the man. Greg didn’t understand Mycroft’s loyalty to his little brother, but then again, he himself was an only child whose parents died when he was sixteen. The hunter knew nothing of attachment and loyalty until Mycroft recruited him for the League. Until then though, Greg was just a punk who didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself.

“I won’t My,” Greg whispered, looking over at the limp, pale form on the bed. “I’ll protect him. Don’t worry, My, I won’t let anything happen to either of you.” Something akin to an atomic bomb exploded in Greg’s chest when he heard the bedroom door open. For that split second, he prepared his body to fight until every Hunter was on the ground or he was completely subdued. But then, the first words Mycroft ever said to him flashed across his mind and made his hands still. ‘Don’t be an idiot, boy,’ the posh man had said to him, his umbrella digging into Greg’s chest after taking him down in two precise strikes.

“Stand up, Lestrade,” a familiar voice said behind him. It was strong and confident, and Greg knew he stood absolutely zero chance in getting Sherlock and Mycroft out alive. Most likely, three of his fellow Hunters had Tasers aimed at his back. “Don’t make this any harder on yourself.”

Taking a deep breath, Greg made his decision and prayed to whatever God was out there that it worked. “It’s about bloody time you lot got here! What,” Greg said as he stood up and turned around to face five hunters and a League board member, “you get lost or som’phin, Magnusson?”   

Magnusson was as ominous as ever, examining the room with a cool gaze that betrayed nothing. Greg had met him a few times, all through Mycroft, who was another of the League’s board members. Mycroft had described him as a genius manipulator, who he would never go against if he had a choice. Looking at him now, Greg understood why.

The old man tilted his head, his gaze flicking from Mycroft to Sherlock, then to Greg. “You were waiting for us?” The man said, amusement showing behind his glasses.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Greg tried to sound pissed off, “of course I was! I told the nurse at Hospital where I was taking Sherlock. She was suppos’ to relay the message to Anderson. I very well couldn’t, as I was a tad preoccupied with vampires.” Greg gestured dramatically towards the living room where John was being wrapped in a body bag for transportation. He looked around the room, sizing up the rest of the Hunters. If he could act nonchalant enough, maybe, just maybe Magnusson would believe his story. Then, Greg would have a chance to save his… _friends? Oh bloody hell, Greg, we’ve gone and sided with a couple of vampires and a pompous ginger!_

“I see,” Magnusson said, looking around as he mulled over Greg’s story. “Restrain Lestrade and Holmes the elder, we’ll bring them in for questioning. Put the younger in the other bag; he’ll go with Watson to medical for examination.” The old Hunter spoke with the coolness and lack of emotion attained from too many years of killing turned men, women, and children.

Greg’s eyes widened. “What? Wait, no!” he shouted, his body automatically dropping into a defensive posture. He could take down three, maybe four of the other Hunters, but eventually Greg would fall and all four of them would be taken. That fact still didn’t stop him from backing down when Lynn, a second year hunter with the London branch of the League, came at him with a spool of ghost twine.

She reached for Greg, and the man leapt. He was quick and precise, darting behind her to shove his heel behind her knee. The woman fell forward, disoriented, and Greg was on to his next fight. The man, Damon, he remembered, was even easier than the first. The young hunter basically tripped over his own feet as Greg landed a punch to his solar plexus and second rib.

With a smug grin on his face, Greg stood up tall and made his way towards Magnusson. Before he could react, Greg was on his back gasping for air as pain spread from his abdomen. “What the…what the fuck?!” he wheezed, looking down at his shaking body. _No bullet or knife wound. No twine or darts. What is happening to me?!_

“Ah, yes, forgive me,” Magnusson said calmly, motioning for the other Hunters to ‘package up’ Sherlock and Mycroft. “I forgot you’re only a level four Hunter. Too unimportant, too stupid, too…untrustworthy to be told about the tracker the League placed in you during your first physical.” The old man walked over to kneel beside Greg, his bony hand reaching out to caress the younger Hunter’s cheek as he smiled cruelly. “Pity, you would have been one of the greats if you hadn’t fallen into the Holmes’ web.”

“F-fuck off,” Greg panted, the pain in his stomach had already spread through his limbs. _Damn it, how did I not know about the stupid tracker?! Why didn’t Mycroft tell me? How did Sherlock not know? Aw, fuck-_

The last thing Greg saw was the butt of a crossbow slamming into his face. He knew that was definitely not going leave a sexy scar.    

        

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story. I'd love to here your thoughts about the update, so feel free to comment.
> 
> If you liked what you just read, check out my Tumblr at [My Tumblr ](http://nightfall24.tumblr.com/) I post updates on there every time I post, just in case you can't sub on A03.


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